


The Wolf You Feed

by Sinelaborenihil



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Major Character Injury, Original Character(s), Past Rape/Non-con, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 42
Words: 237,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23428876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinelaborenihil/pseuds/Sinelaborenihil
Summary: If you asked Saoirse (SEAR-sha) Hawke if she'd made a difference, she'd probably respond with a snarky comment that only thinly disguised the painful doubts. However, her closest friends, Fenris and Varric would beg to differ. This is the story of their friendships, Hawke’s life in Kirwall and beyond, and the impact one person can have on the world around them.
Relationships: Fenris/Female Hawke
Comments: 86
Kudos: 98





	1. An Auspicious Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I love Bioware romances, but of course there can only be so much content in the game. I wanted to explore Hawke and Fenris' relationship a little more deeply and give their relationship time to grow. Writing this also led to a deeper exploration of Saoirse's relationship with Varric, which I hope you will enjoy as much as I did.
> 
> There are places where you will see that I diverge from game canon, though I try to keep that to a minimum and explain why I did it in the notes following the chapter. This fic was actually _inspired_ by my feeling that the fight with Danarius was a little too easy. I set out to write a short little headcannon fic to address that and, well, here we are. Anyway, I hope that you’ll forgive the departures from canon, which also include the addition of a few OCs.
> 
> Chapters that include the darker tags that I've listed will be called out in the forward notes for that chapter. I don't want anyone to be blindsided.
> 
> If you see an asterisk (*) next to the title of a chapter, this is to indicate that it is a chapter that includes smut. That way, it can be avoided if smut isn't your thing. Conversely, if you're just needing some smut in your life, you'll know exactly where to go. ;) If you stumble upon some that I missed denoting, please let me know and I’ll fix it!
> 
> I really hope that you enjoy!
> 
> Everything belongs to Bioware and there are spoilers for all 3 Dragon Age games and eventually, Blue Wraith.
> 
> ** Currently updates on Mondays **

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Fenris meets Saoirse Hawke for the first time and finds many of his assumptions to be mistaken. Their acquaintance begins to draw him out of his shell.

Fenris wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when Anso had sent him the message that someone had been hired to help him bait the men hunting him. The usual brand of thug that stalked the streets of Lowton. A pirate perhaps, or a desperate Fereldan refugee. Well, the woman who had dispatched the slave hunters had been Ferelden, but she was certainly not the usual breed of thug. She had all her teeth, for one thing. She was also, well, beautiful, at least to his mind. She had dark skin the color of treated cedar, and eyes that were such a light brown they were almost gold. Her hair had been shaved down to the barest covering in a style that many women would have balked at. For her it made her cheekbones stand out and rather than making her look mannish, made her look regal. In another life, he might have been tempted to ask her to join him for a drink. But then, when they stormed Denarius’ mansion, he learned that she was a mage. She seemed rather forthright about that, not deflecting or denying when he confronted her about it outside. Her eyes caught the lantern light outside the mansion as she pierced him with her gaze. The way she looked at him when he talked about magic gave him pause and it occurred to him that he sounded terribly ungrateful. For all that they hadn’t found his former master, she had saved him from the hunters using the very skills that he was harping on. He had thanked her and offered his services and what coin he had, expecting that that would take care of it and he’d never hear from her again.  


****  


He would soon learn that Saoirse Hawke was nothing if not surprising. She showed up at the mansion only a few days later, banging on his door so loudly that he’d almost jumped out of his skin. Her eyes were bright with mischief when he answered.  


“Fenris!” she said, sounding pleased. “Aveline says that some raiders are going to ambush a caravan and she needs help taking them out. Wanna come?”  


He glanced around her and saw the guard and the dwarf Varric waiting. The two of them had been with Hawke the night they had cleared the mansion. Aveline nodded to him and the dwarf gave him a pleasant smile.  


“I…”  


“Come on!” she said, grinning. “It’ll be nice to get out of the city, get a little fresh air, smack some heads together.”  


Her smile and her enthusiasm were contagious and for the first of what would come to be many times, Fenris found himself smiling back at Hawke.  


“Very well,” he said. “Let me get my sword.”  


And then the four of them were off chasing raiders, which only led them to more questions when it turned out that the guard captain was a less than savory individual. Fenris had to admire Aveline’s strength of character when she went against orders and dug into the discrepancies in the story she’d learned. She had done what was right without thought for her own career and position. And Hawke had been right there at her side, insisting on helping. Nevermind that she was a refugee and an apostate, someone who really shouldn't be getting on the bad side of the guards. Her friend needed her help, so she went.  


It wouldn’t take him long to learn that that, in a nutshell, was Hawke.  


That particular mission had worked out well for Aveline, catapulting her to the role of Guard Captain (pending training and final approval from the Viscount of course). Hawke had bought her a bottle of the best whisky she could find and Varric had invited the three of them to celebrate at the Hanged Man. As the four of them sat in Varric’s comfortable rooms, Fenris had felt a strange sensation. He had put the curious warmth in his chest down to the strength of the whisky at first. But as he heard himself chuckling at something Hawke said, he realized that he was feeling the warmth of...companionship. It had been a long time, a very long time since he had felt something of that kind. And it had happened so quickly. It sent a little thrill down his spine. He shouldn’t get attached, shouldn't trust so quickly. They could turn him in to slave hunters at any moment. But as he watched Hawke lean back with her whisky he had trouble believing her capable. She’d risked so much to help Aveline. Surely someone like that could be trusted, insofar as he trusted anyone.  


Varric had suggested a round of Wicked Grace and his brown eyes had lit up when Fenris confessed that he didn’t know how to play. But Varric had taken the time to teach him, though he had cheated unabashedly the whole time. Saoirse laughed when she was beaten and threw up her hands. “I should have known better,” she teased Varric. Aveline gave a disapproving sniff, but Fenris could see that her shoulders were relaxed and she was clearly amused. They had called it a night then, and Fenris went back to the empty mansion with both his pockets and his heart just a little bit lighter. There were several missions after that, until the one that forever shifted the way he saw the unpredictable mage.  


****  


Fenris hurt. They had followed the trail of the Tal Vashoth down into the caves on the wounded coast, fighting their way through wave after wave of the massive oxmen. Hawke had been optimistic about their chances, but Fenris had counseled caution. Though the Tal Vashoth were not technically Qunari anymore having rejected the Qun, they were still formidable warriors. Much to his dismay, however, she had interpreted that suggestion as meaning that they should bring the mage Anders along. He had been hoping for her brother Carver. Though the other warrior was a little hot headed, another blade would have been useful. Hawke, however, felt that Anders could provide more backup since she herself was not a particularly skilled healer. She was, as she put it, more adept at making things explode.  


But as skilled as Fenris and Aveline were, the presence of the Sarebaas had been an unexpected challenge. Hawke and Anders were only able to do so much to counteract the opposing mage’s spells and after one particularly brutal one that sent them all flying back, Fenris felt several of his ribs crack as he hit an outcropping of rock. It hurt horrifically, even to someone as accustomed to pain as Fenris was, and he heard himself gasp as he dragged himself to his feet. Then suddenly, Anders was at his side, his hand stretched out with the blue glow of healing magic. Fenris growled and swatted his hand away, lurching back into the fight to help Aveline finish the sarebaas. But Hawke had beaten them to it. She growled as she wiped blood from her face and cast the horrifyingly aptly named “Crushing prison” on the sarebaas. The tal vashoth was dead within seconds and Hawke turned around with a grin. Her expression fell a little when she met Fenris’ eyes and she hurried forward. “Fenris?”  


“I’m fine,” he growled back, hearing how rough his voice sounded.  


“He won’t let me heal him,” Anders said with an exasperated expression.  


“I will not,” Fenris agreed. “I will be fine. I will take something when we are back in the city.”  


Saoirse’s expression touched him unexpectedly. “I should have brought more potions,” she said quietly, running a hand over her closely cropped hair. “I’m sorry, they are just so expensive and I-” she let her head drop, looking ashamed. Fenris knew that every spare copper she had was going to raising the fifty sovereigns she needed to join Bartrand’s expedition. She was so determined to give her family a better life.  


“It’s not your fault,” Anders said with a dark look at Fenris. “Why would you think you needed any when you have a perfectly good healer traveling with you.”  


“An...Abomination,” Fenris managed to grunt. “Keep your hands off me.” He lurched to his feet and after waving off a helping hand from Hawke, began the long trudge back to Kirkwall. The trip to the Qunari compound had at least helped his wounded pride when he was able to contribute using the knowledge he had picked up in his time with the Fog Warriors. The Arishok had seemed as impressed as a Qunari ever seemed to get and Hawke had certainly seemed grateful for his help. Together they walked out of the compound, and it was there, to his great shame, that his wounds caught up to him and his world went black.  


When he woke up, he was back in his stolen mansion, it was dark outside, and Hawke was sitting in the chair near the fireplace reading a book.  


She jumped to her feet. “Thank the Maker you’re awake!” she said, hurrying to his side. “I was so worried! I’d never have forgiven myself if you’d died because I’d been pinching coppers.”  


“How-”  


“Aveline and I carried you back,” she replied. “Well, mostly Aveline. We got you here and then I went and got the strongest healing potion that I could find.”  


“You didn’t just...have Anders do it when I lost consciousness and couldn’t argue anymore?” Fenris asked.  


Hawke recoiled like he’d slapped her. “Knowing how you felt about it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “That-I couldn’t violate anyone’s trust like that, especially not a friend.”  


Instinctively he reached out towards her, ashamed. “I-I was in pain and being ridiculous,” he admitted, though his skin still crawled at the thought of Anders touching him. “Still, I...you must let me repay you for the potion. It must have been very dear.”  


“It’s no big deal,” she said with a shrug. It was right then that Fenris knew why she was so terrible at Wicked Grace when they all played together. She might have been a smart ass able to misdirect the regular people that they dealt with. But when it came to those she counted friends, she couldn’t lie worth a damn.  


“I will,” he promised.  


She smiled at him then and promised to visit him in the morning, then slipped out as quietly as a shadow. He flopped back onto the pillows wallowing in his own shame. When they worked together, they were supposed to be a team. She could hardly rely on him for missions if he was going to act like a spoilt child.  
And it appeared that she agreed, for it was a few weeks before she called on him for help again. Oh, he was still invited to Wicked Grace and drinks down at the Hanged Man, but he’d avoided going out of shame. He would later reflect that if he’d known Hawke better at that point he would have known that avoiding her was pointless.  


****  


She showed up at his mansion one afternoon, banging on his door. He opened it warily and she gave him a tentative smile.  


“Morning, Fenris,” she said. “It’s been awhile. I hope that you’re all right after what happened on the Wounded Coast.”  


He blushed and stepped back, wordlessly inviting her in. “I am well,” he said. “Though again I must-”  


“You mustn’t,” she cut him off firmly, though her smile was gentle. “I understand, Fenris, truly.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Anyway, I’m here because I got a letter and thought you might be interested in helping me. It seems that a Templar has gone missing.”  


“And you...wish to find this Templar?” he asked. It seemed odd, considering that she was an apostate.  


“I met his sister,” she said quietly. “She’s...very worried. I’d like to help if I can. It’s an awful thing to lose a sibling.”  


How could he turn her down? He strapped his sword to his back and they were off with Varric and Aveline on another mission that led to, surprise surprise, Abominations and Blood Mages. Hawke was able to throw off the woman at the Blooming Rose’s compulsion and gained from her the location of the leader of the group attacking Templars. She dispatched the woman without a second of hesitation and led them away to pursue the other Blood Mages. She asked Aveline to go back to the Keep to get backup if they needed it and stopped to invite Anders along. Fenris tried not to bristle at the mage, understanding her reasoning. If they found Templars wounded it would be prudent to have a healer with them.  


And as it turned out, the use she found for Anders was not necessarily what he would have chosen.  


When the blood mages were defeated, she asked Anders to check the young templar they had freed and tell her if he had fallen to their corruption or not. When Anders pronounced him clear she sent the young man back to the Gallows. She dropped Anders off at his clinic before going to the Gallows herself, not wanting to put the other apostate at risk.  


“I don’t want to risk Anders starting something with Commander Cullen,” she confided in Fenris as they made their way up the steps. “I don’t disagree with him, not on everything anyway, but I find it’s best not to antagonize the templars.”  


“You are putting yourself at risk by involving yourself with them at all,” Fenris pointed out and saw, to his amusement, that Varric was nodding along with him.  


They crested the stairs and saw the young man, Keran and his sister Macha grinning at each other. “It’s worth the risk for moments like that,” Hawke said softly. “There are too few of them in this world.” She boldly strode over to where Commander Cullen was speaking to the young man and to Fenris’ continued shock, interceded on his behalf, suggesting that he be allowed to resume his duties. She assured Cullen that he wasn’t a threat and the Commander seemed to accept her word.  


Fenris stared at her as they walked away. “Are you sure that was wise?” he asked.  


“As sure as I can be about anything,” Hawke said wryly.  


“Leave it, Broody,” Varric advised.  


Ignoring the dwarf, Fenris caught her elbow and turned her to look at him when they were out of sight of the templars. “Hawke, that boy has been exposed to blood magic!”  


She pulled her arm away from him and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, Fenris, he has. So who knows better its dangers? Who would be more motivated to protect people from its horrors than Keran?” She gave a bitter laugh that chilled him to the bone. “I have probably created a huge threat to myself and other mages by giving the templars back someone who is going to be so eager to prove himself!” Her golden eyes narrowed. “Or would you prefer that another impoverished, lyrium-addicted ex-templar be wandering the streets of lowtown, looking for targets?”  


He blinked at her and saw Varric shaking his head out of the corner of his eye. “You...make a good point,” he said. He still didn’t agree with her, not entirely, but at least he understood her reasoning.  


****  


The next time Hawke knocked on his door, he was surprised to see that she was accompanied by Varric and her brother Carver instead of Aveline. It didn’t take spending much time with the Hawke siblings to see the uneasiness between them. He smiled pleasantly at Carver. He found the young man a little abrasive and...impetuous and he found himself bristling at the way he talked to Hawke. Still, Carver was smiling at him and looked more animated than he had in the time Fenris had known him.  


“We’re going to break into our family home,” Hawke said without preamble.  


“Ah, hence no Aveline,” Fenris said wryly. “It would look bad for the soon-to-be Guard Captain.”  


Hawke grinned at him and he couldn’t help but smile back at her. “Well that and we’re looking for our grandfather’s will. Family business, and all that.” She shrugged a shoulder. “We need some more muscle and it is presumably full of slavers.” Her lovely eyes flashed with anger that made warmth towards her bloom in his chest. “I figured that would be right up your alley.”  


“You figured correctly,” he replied. “Allow me to get my sword.”  


The four of them hurried down to the secret entrance outside Anders’ clinic and made their way inside. There, they showed no quarter. Any slavers that crossed their path were mercilessly cut down, and not just by him. The Hawke siblings were equally determined and when the last one had been dispatched, Hawke looked around with a little remorse. He thought for a moment that she was just sorry the fight was over. Through their brief acquaintance he had seen that she was never one to shy away from a good fight.  
“Damn,” she said quietly.  


“I’m sure we can find more fights if we go looking, Hawke,” Varric said.  


She shook her head. “Lots of slavers, but no slaves,” she said quietly, glancing in Fenris’ direction. “We must have just missed their last shipment.” She looked down at Varric. “See if you can find anything out, would you? We can’t have missed them by much if there are no new slaves here. There are always vulnerable people in Kirkwall. I’d like to help them, if I can.” She turned back to Carver, who had just finished going through the last slave mage’s pockets. “Got the key?” she asked. Carver grinned at her and held it up and together they made their way to the vault door, leaving Fenris and Varric.  


“I assume you’d like to help us if I manage to track down the slaves?” Varric asked him quietly.  


Fenris nodded, not taking his eyes off of Hawke. That she had noticed the absence of slaves and was willing to put time and resources towards finding them...it only raised her in his estimation. It seemed like every time they went on a mission together, he found something else about her to like or admire. He realized that Varric was looking at him with one eyebrow raised. “What?” he asked, but the dwarf just grinned at him and walked towards where a triumphant Hawke and Carver were walking out of the vault. He joined in their celebration, glad that they had found what they had come for. It seemed some of the tension between them had abated, which could only be to the good. Together they walked out into Darktown and Fenris was only too happy to walk the siblings back to Gamlen’s house. Varric invited him for a drink down at the Hanged Man and he was only too happy to oblige.  


****  


“There’s a foul wind coming from that cavern. I smell death.” Granted, Fenris could have said that about any number of the caves that Hawke had dragged him into, but this one was something different. It was a base smell, something wild. It reminded him of the boars the magisters had hunted for sport. He had advised caution, but Hawke was determined to save the miners. He had come to realize that if she knew that people were actively in danger there was very little that could stop her from going after them. And these were Fereldan refugees, just like she was. Were it not for Varric and Gamlen, Hawke easily could have been one of the miners lost down there. He followed without further comment. The fights inside had been no match for the three of them, though at least it had been something of a challenge. Dragonlings were new. They heard footsteps running towards them and then a young, red-haired man skidded to a stop in front of them.  


“Praise Andraste that you came along! Them dragons would have sniffed me out for certain!”  


Breathlessly the young man told him about the wall collapse that had released a dragon that had attacked them. Some of his fellows had escaped, but he had made a wrong turn and gotten lost. Hawke had told him to run, and he’d encouraged her to do the same, but of course she hadn’t. She seemed disturbingly excited at the possibility of a “huge dragon”.  
The man hadn’t been exaggerating. It was certainly a huge dragon. Or at least, it was to him. Later in their acquaintance he would fight bigger at her side, but at that moment it was the largest he had seen. It was a bloody fight, but they had won in the end, and he’d seen the satisfaction on Hawke’s face when she told Hubert that the miner hadn’t been lying about the dragons. The merchant seemed to know a good thing when he saw one, and offered her a share in the mine. She’d hesitated, then accepted, citing that someone needed to protect his workers. The threat wasn’t a subtle one and Fenris saw Aveline nod approvingly. They were even able to find the workers who had escaped and convince them to return to work after Hawke, much to Hubert’s later chagrin, offered them a raise.  
With that settled, the four companions went to the Hanged Man and up to Varric’s room where they plopped down in front of the fire.  


“A fucking dragon,” Hawke said, her eyes shining. “That was just…”  


“Insane, Hawke,” Varric said wryly. “The word you’re looking for is ‘insane’.”  


“Oh, I don’t know,” Aveline said, her eyes glazing over dreamily. “The way that it roared, Varric, it made my armor vibrate. I’ve never felt anything like it.”  


Varric turned to him, shaking his head. “Is it a human thing, Fenris? Or just their women? Are they all like this?”  


Fenris grinned at him. “Feeling the air around us crackling with heat...smelling the sulfur...to fight a dragon, like warriors of old…” he couldn’t contain his chuckle as Varric held up his hands and made a dismissive gesture.  


“You’re all out of your minds!” the dwarf said sadly. “It’s a shame really, you’re all so young.”  


Hawke draped an arm over Varric’s shoulder. “Come on, Varric. You can’t tell me that Bianca didn’t enjoy the challenge, at least.”  


“I would never presume to speak for a lady,” Varric said archly. But Fenris could see the good natured glimmer in his eye. “Whisky?”  


“I should return to the Keep,” Aveline said regretfully.  


“Just one, Aveline!” Hawke insisted, grabbing her friend’s hand.  


Aveline rolled her eyes, but grinned at Hawke. “All right, Hawke. Just one.”  


Aveline kept to her word, as she always did, and left them after one, leaving Hawke, Varric, and Fenris in the comforting warmth of Varric’s room. Hawke propped her feet up on a low stool by the fire. She sipped at the glass of whisky Varric had given her.  


“You’ve got to be close by now, Hawke,” Varric said after a few minutes of companionable silence.  


She grinned and nodded. “One or two missions and I should be good,” she said raising her glass.  


“Congratulations,” Fenris said, smiling at her. “I know how hard you have worked.”  


She nodded and smiled back at him. “I am grateful to both of you for your help,” she said softly. “It has been some time since I had friends I could rely on like I do you both.”  


Varric patted her leg and grumbled something about getting emotional and Hawke subsided with a laugh. Fenris felt warmth that he knew had nothing to do with the whisky spreading in his chest. She had called him a friend.  


****  


That she had named him as a friend, a person she could rely on, made the news that she delivered a few weeks later that much more shocking and difficult to accept. She had gathered all of her friends in the Hanged Man and Varric had proposed a toast.  


“To our friend Hawke and her exciting new business venture with her devilishly handsome business partner!”  


Hawke grinned at the dwarf and squeezed his shoulder. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said to him. “Without all of you,” she said, gesturing to their group with her drink. “Which is why drinks are on me tonight.”  


Fenris joined in the general good-hearted murmur at her words, but he could see that something was troubling her.  


“Also, drinks make hard news easier to deliver,” she said, glancing away.  


They all fell quiet at that, their expressions going from excited to uneasy.  


“You are all such good friends to me,” Hawke said. “And almost all of you have approached me in the past few weeks as I’ve gotten closer to my goal, asking about coming along.” Her golden eyes went from person to person, her expression apologetic. “Bartrand has said that apart from Varric I can only bring two people with me.”  


The murmuring was decidedly less good natured at that, but Hawke held up a hand. “I may be an investor,” she said, “but this is ultimately Bartrand’s party. If I want to go, and I haven’t busted my ass for all this time to not go, I have to play by his rules.” Her usual good natured tone had vanished, replaced by something much harder that stilled the voices of dissent. When Varric asked about it later on in their acquaintance, Fenris would tell him that it was that moment that Fenris began to have an inkling of just what she would become. But as quickly as it came, it was gone, and she was all wry smiles again. “Thank you all for wanting to come,” she said. “It was a really hard choice, but I have made my decision. I will be bringing Anders, because he is a Gray Warden and has journeyed to the Deep Roads before. And it is his maps that are getting us there.”  


Anders smiled at her and Fenris felt a rush of dislike for the man. “To be fair, sweetheart, they are your maps now. You earned them fairly. And though I always said I’d never go back, I’d be honored to join you down in that hellhole again.”  


The others chuckled at that. Fenris did not.  


“The other person coming will be my brother, Carver.”  


The young man’s head snapped up, an almost boyish smile on his face. It totally changed the way the normally sullen young man looked. “Are you serious?”  


Nodding, Hawke smiled almost shyly at him and Fenris understood. Hawke was inviting her baby brother as a gesture of reconciliation, inviting him to share the fortune and the potential glory. He could hardly begrudge her that, though he wouldn’t deny it worried him.  


“Mother is going to have a fit,” Carver said as he swept Hawke up into a hug. She blinked over his shoulder, obviously surprised, then hugged him back.  


“Hand of Wicked Grace to decide which of us tells her?” she said once Carver stepped back. That had drawn a laugh out of the surly young man and then Varric stepped forward.  


“I’ve arranged something for you, Hawke,” Varric said as the excited murmuring died down. “A celebration that a drunk Baby Hawke told me is common when good news is shared back in Ferelden.” He gestured to the corner where a couple of Fereldens who Fenris recognized as regulars rose. Two were holding small stringed instruments, and one was holding a strange box that came apart with a groan that sounded to Fenris like a goose being murdered. The last was holding a large, flat drum.  


Carver’s eyes had gotten wide as he looked over at his sister. “Varric, you didn’t!”  


“Oh, but I did,” Varric said gesturing to the musicians. They smiled back at him and began to play. The song was cheerful with a beat that made even Fenris tap his toes, despite his feelings about the Deep Roads expedition. Hawke turned to her brother and raised an eyebrow. “Well, Carver. You did this,” she said and held out her hand. He groaned, but took her hand and followed her out to where some of the other patrons had cleared some space.  


“It’s a reel,” Aveline breathed. “Wesley and I did one at our wedding!”  


The two Hawke siblings began to dance and it wasn’t anything like the dances that Fenris had seen in Tevinter. Things in Tevinter were very...dignified. This dance involved a lot of clapping, leaping, and lifting the partner into the air. There was also some intricate footwork that had both Hawke and Carver bouncing in a most undignified manner. The steps weren’t complicated for some who was used to memorizing patterns as Fenris was and he found himself aching to try it. It was wild and carefree and spoke eloquently of taking the joy where it could be found.  


“Come on!” Hawke said to the rest of them, her voice breathless and happy. “It’s more fun with more people!”  


“I’ve always wanted to try a human dance!” Merrill breathed, grabbing Isabela by the hand. The two women enthusiastically joined in the general hubbub.  


“Care to try, Aveline?” Fenris said, smiling at her. He saw her pale eyes widen and she took his hand shyly. He led her out into the open space and joined the line that had formed with men and Isabela on one side and the women on the other. The dance got more complicated as they added more people, weaving in and out of each other, trading partners, laughing and clapping. Soon he found himself with Hawke, and her lovely golden eyes were bright. Her smile all but took his breath away as he lifted her into the air and set her back down. As they circled each other she raised an eyebrow.  
“Reeled before?” she asked with a smile.  


“No,” he admitted. “But it is not hard.”  


“We’ll see what you say in an hour!” she teased. “The Fereldan rule is you go until the Piper needs a whisky break. But since there isn’t one, we’ll have to go until the Fiddler gets tired!” Then she was swept off by Isabela, the two women giggling. Fenris continued for another two songs, before he chose his moment to slip out. He didn’t want to put a damper on the evening, but he was still troubled by the fact that Hawke wasn’t bringing him along to the Deep Roads. He was willing to admit to himself that he’d had fun, however.  


However, he had barely gotten a block into Lowtown when he heard the door to the Hanged Man open, the upbeat music spilling out. Running footsteps followed him and he turned to see Hawke breathlessly skid to a stop before she ran into him.  


“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you too,” she said.  


“I understand,” he said, ignoring the part of him that wanted to grab her and tell her she was making a mistake. No one could doubt Carver’s...zeal, but he wasn’t a protector. He just charged off into battle. And Anders, who knew what being so near to the evil of darkspawn would bring out in him? He did his best to keep his expression level. She was going to be embarking on a treacherous journey. He didn’t want to burden her mind with more worry with his petulance.  


She cocked her head. “You don’t have to lie,” she said softly. “I know you don’t like it.”  


He couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so he remained silent.  


Hawke sighed. “I hope you know, if the circumstances were different, I’d bring you. But Carver...this means so much to him. I have to give him this chance to get out of my shadow or I’m scared he’ll resent me forever. I miss-” She swallowed hard, closing her eyes. “I miss having a sibling who likes me.” Her voice caught and Fenris felt like someone had reached into his stomach and squeezed. It was an uncomfortable sensation to suddenly realize how much he cared about her pain.  


“Hawke, I really do understand,” he said softly. He found himself taking a step forward, closing the distance between them. “Or at least, I think I do.” He caught himself giving a sad smile. “Or...I’ll try to. You have to do what’s right for you and your family. I just hope you know…” he trailed off, feeling suddenly way too vulnerable.  


“Thank you,” she said, sparing him having to think of a way to finish the sentence. “If I could have another person there, it’d be you. I always feel safer with you at my back.”  


Fenris blinked at that and, wanting her to know that things were all right between them, Fenris took a deep breath and did something that he almost never did, especially with mages. He reached out his hand.  


Her eyes widened just slightly, telling him that she understood the gesture for what it was, before she reached out and clasped his hand in hers. The magic in her veins sang the lyrium in his tattoos, but he closed his hand around hers and gave it a hearty shake.  


“Be safe, Hawke,” he said. “And good fortune go with you.”


	2. Unnerving Implications & Unexpected Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela teases Fenris about Hawke, an unexpected tragedy strikes the Deep Roads expedition, and Fenris returns home to an unexpected visitor.

“I think you have a thing for Hawke,” Isabela said, slamming down her tankard and gesturing for another one.  


Fenris choked a little bit on his own ale and glanced over at the pirate. “I beg your pardon?”  


She grinned at him and leaned forward on her elbow, somehow seeming both more and less drunk than he knew she was. “Well for one, you haven’t even looked at my tits and they have been here practically on a plate for you. And for two, I saw the look on your face when she said she wasn’t taking you with her down into the Deep Roads. Or, I guess it would be more accurate to say that I saw how your whole body stiffened up.” She gave a little giggle. “Heh, stiffened.”  


“I...I spent my time in Tevinter as a bodyguard,” Fenris said, looking down into his drink as his mind whirled with what she had said. “I merely think that I am the best choice if she wishes to stay safe.”  


“Mmmhm,” Isabela said, raising an eyebrow. “As you like, but I’m just saying that you stare at her tits a lot more than you stare at mine and, you know-” she gestured at her ample chest, “on a plate.”  


“I do not stare at her-” Fenris coughed. Maker, had he been staring? Had Hawke seen him staring? “I do not stare.”  


Isabela laughed her raucous laugh then and left it alone, but it left Fenris unsettled in a way that her teasing didn’t usually. Did he have feelings for Hawke? What would it mean if he did? What could it even mean? He was not a free man, not yet. He was still an escaped slave squatting in a stolen mansion. He couldn’t offer her anything.  


He drank with Isabela long enough for her not to accuse him off running off in a snit, as she liked to put it, before making his way back up to the mansion. He closed the door carefully, not wanting to draw his neighbor’s attention, and made his way down to the cellars for some wine. He didn’t want to worry about his feelings, a difficult thing when he was already finding himself thinking of Hawke and her journey. Was she all right? Had they found anything? Was Anders flirting with her and using the shared hardship to get close to her?  


“Enough!” he said to the echoing halls. “Fasta vass,” he muttered. He didn’t want to consider the possibility that Isabela was right. He had no claim to Hawke, and he wasn’t even sure that he wanted that kind of...closeness with anyone. It wasn’t safe. He resolved that he would be content in friendship and camaraderie, things that had long been missing from his life. He was already outlandishly lucky to be where he was. He would not ask for more.  


Fenris had always thought of himself as a resolute man. Certainly others would say he was implacable. But his resolve to feel nothing but casual friendship for Hawke disappeared the second he saw her return from the Deep Roads. There was a hideous pain in her eyes, despite the almost literal mountain of treasure that she, Varric, and Anders brought out with them.  


“Oh no,” said Merril, her voice quiet at his side. “What happened to Carver?”

****

They had the whole sad story from Varric after Hawke had given the barest of nods towards them and hurried off towards her uncle’s house.  


“Carver had the Taint,” the dwarf said softly, looking down into his mug as they sat around the fire in his room. “Kid hid it well, I gotta give it to him. We were only a few days from the surface when he finally collapsed.” He raised a glass towards Anders, who was sitting slightly closer to the fire looking stricken. “If Anders hadn’t been there, the kid would have been dead. But thanks to him, we were able to get Carver to the Gray Wardens. We won’t know for a little bit yet if he survived the…”  


“Joining,” Anders said, his voice rasping from his throat like it was dragged out by darkspawn. “Maker…” he put his head in his hands, “I should have seen-”  


“It isn’t your fault, Anders,” Varric said sharply, and Fenris realized that during the whole time he’d been talking Varric had never used one of his many nicknames. “We both knew the kid was reckless, Hawke knew. We all did our best to protect him, but he was so damned determined to finally shine on his own. And there were just...so many darkspawn.” The dwarf shook his head and raised his glass. “May the Maker turn his eyes towards Baby Hawke and bring him through his Joining in one piece.” He hesitated. “Or...may he save him a spot and a mug of ale at his side.”  


Fenris raised his glass with the rest of them, immediately deciding that he had to go and check on Hawke. If Varric was this shaken, he could only imagine how she was doing. He stayed with the group until Varric’s head began to nod, then helped the others put the dwarf to bed. It felt strangely good to take care of the strange little man, and Fenris even found it in himself to make eye contact with Anders. “I’m sure you did what you could,” he said, scarcely believing the words were coming out of his mouth. The mage looked equally shocked to hear them, but nodded back and hurried out towards his clinic.  


“That was kind,” Merril said, giving Fenris’ shoulder a little pat, and then she disappeared into the darkness.  


“I’ll keep an eye on Varric,” Isabela said, helping herself to a generous pour of Varric’s whisky and curling up in the large chair by the fire.  


“Walk you back to the mansion?” Aveline said as they went down the stairs from Varric’s room. Fenris hesitated and Aveline gave him an understanding look. “I want to check on her too,” she said. “But I’m guessing that tonight she needs her family. We can go by tomorrow.”  


“You’re right,” Fenris said, and it troubled him how much that admission cost him. Together he and the guard captain walked back towards High Town, and Aveline left him at his door to walk back to the barracks with Guardsman Donnic, who happened to be finishing a patrol.  


Fenris entered the mansion and froze when he heard the sounds of bottles clinking in the cellar. Someone was in his house. Someone who knew where the wine cellar was, had no compunction about helping himself, and didn’t want to risk detection by lighting a candle.  
Danarius.  


Moving silently as any shadow, Fenris unsheathed his greatsword and slowly made his way down to the cellar. He could see the pale blue of a mage light and gritted his teeth. He paused outside the doorway and listened, tightening his hands on the grip of the sword. He was about to tap into his lyrium and launch himself into the wine cellar when he heard a sniffle and then quiet sobs.  


He lowered his blade, though he kept it ready still and stepped into the doorway. There, on his floor, was Saoirse Hawke.  


She was curled up in the farthest corner of the room, her head in her folded arms, her shoulders shaking with wracking sobs.  


“Hawke-” Fenris heard himself croak. “What are you doing here?”  


She jumped, knocking a bottle over. Nothing spilled out onto the floor and Fenris realized she must have been there for some time. Her eyes widened a little at the sight of his blade, and he hurried to put it away. “I’m sorry,” he said, closing the distance between them and sinking down into a crouch. “I heard the bottles and thought-”  


“No-no I’m sorry,” Hawke said, stumbling to her feet. “I-I know you’re such a private person I shouldn’t have...I just...I didn’t know where else to go.”  


“Please don’t apologize,” Fenris said, reaching out a hand to steady her. “I’m sorry that I was not here. Varric asked to speak with us all. He did not want you to have to tell the story.”  


“That was good of him,” she said. “Because I don’t think-” another round of tears hit her then and she leaned heavily on the wall. “Fuck,” she whispered. “What am I even doing here?”  


“Come upstairs,” Fenris said, noticing the slight waver in her words that told him that she was cold. “Let’s start a fire and we can talk...or not. Whatever...whatever is easier.”  


She reached down and blindly groped for a bottle. “Can I bring this with me?”  


“Of course,” Fenris said. He picked up a bottle for himself and lead Hawke upstairs to his room. He went to stoke the fire, but paused when Hawke said his name quietly.  


“Fenris I-I’m so cold. Do you mind if...just this once, I used my magic to light the fire? I don’t think I can wait for it to catch and warm up.”  


All things considered, he was touched that she’d asked him. He gestured for her to go ahead and found himself taking a step back. She chuckled darkly at that and again at the way he knew his eyes widened when a perfect little fire sprang up around the dry wood. “Magic must serve man and never rule over him,” she said in a bitter singsong, her full lips curling into a sneer. It faded from her face almost immediately, however, as she sank down in front of the flames and took a pull from the wine bottle. Fenris opened the little chest by his bed and pulled out one of the thicker blankets that he’d purchased. It was obscenely soft and the color of spring grass. It had been a ridiculous splurge, but he loved its soft weight. It was comforting for him, as he hoped it would be for her. He draped it over her shoulders and sat down next to her in front of the fire. He said nothing, leaving it open for her to speak if she wanted.  


“I never should have brought him,” she said after a long silence and another pull from the bottle. “I just...I knew that the deep roads were dangerous, but you always think those things are...well, exaggerated. And we were part of an expedition. A well-funded expedition!” The bitter note was back in her voice. “But fuck me, Fenris, Bartrand left us there to die! We were alone and cut off from everyone. And there were so. Many. Darkspawn. And other...things.” She shuddered and pulled the blanket tighter around her. “And then we found more wealth than we could ever spend and the way out and it looked like it was all going to be ok and then Carver just...how could I have missed it?”  


Fenris didn’t say anything. She wasn’t looking at him, but staring into the flames. He noticed with a start that flames were dancing across her fingertips. “I have all this power,” she said softly. “But I couldn’t save him. Anders couldn’t save him. We won’t know for weeks if he even survived the Joining to become a Gray Warden. And Mother…” she trailed off and the fire on her fingertips disappeared. “I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me,” Hawke said in an awful, broken whisper. “I hoped to get my brother back by bringing him. Instead, instead I lost both of them.” She started to sob then, huge, wracking sobs that seemed like they might rip her apart with their force. He scooted closer to her and she seemed to sense it and leaned ever so slightly against his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she gasped out after a few minutes of crying. “I-I should go. This isn’t your problem.”  


“No,” Fenris said. Hawke stiffened against him and he hurried to add “You should not go. It is late. You are exhausted and drunk and would be an extremely easy target. You should stay here and rest.”  


“I should go,” Hawke said again, this time making to rise. “It seems to help Mother to yell at me. I can’t blame her. She isn’t saying anything that I’m not thinking.”  


Fenris felt helpless for a moment as she shrugged off his hand and stumbled to her feet. He had to stop her. As she was now, any slaver or Templar could easily take her and he wasn’t about to allow that. Maker, he wouldn’t even have let Anders walk home in such a state.  


He caught her as she went to pass him and wordlessly pulled her against his chest. It felt...strange. He did not generally seek out physical contact with people, especially mages. But he had to keep her from wandering off into the darkness. She stiffened for a moment, then seemed to go limp in his arms as sobs overtook her again. He held her tightly, just letting her cry as he stroked her back softly. 

“Carver is strong,” he said after a few minutes, once her sobs had subsided to quiet sniffles. “You did a good thing bringing him. I am certain you will see him again in Gray Warden armor.”  


She let out a choked sound and clutched him tightly and he could feel the dampness of her tears through his shirt. “Thank you,” she whispered, her words muffled.  


He nodded. “You should rest, Hawke,” he said gently, feeling how her body shook with weariness.  


She nodded and took a ragged breath. “I’ll take the couch,” she said. She looked around. “Right. The floor then.”  


“You have been sleeping on the ground for weeks,” Fenris said, gently chivvying her towards his bed. “I will be fine on the floor for one night.”  


“I can’t-”  


“You can. And you will,” he said in a tone that he hoped brooked no argument. It seemed to work, because with a final huff she let him nudge her back onto the bed where she immediately curled up into a tight little ball with only her nose and mouth sticking out of the blanket.  


“Fenris?” her voice was already thick with sleep.  


“Yes, Hawke?” he replied in what he hoped was a gentle tone.  


“Thank you.”  


“Any time, Hawke,” he said and was surprised to find himself meaning it. He heard a quiet little murmur and then the sound of soft snores. Quietly, he took a few more blankets from his chest and made himself a little bedroll on the floor in front of the fire. It was the perfect temperature and he noticed that it hadn’t consumed any of the wood. Normally this would have been alarming enough to have him sleeping in another room. But as he looked towards the snoring bundle on the bed, he felt no fear. He lay down on his back so that he could see both Hawke and the door, and slowly drifted off to sleep while listening to the merry crackle of the magic flames.

****

She tried to sneak out in the morning, but the second she had woken up Fenris had as well. His time with Danarius had made him a light sleeper by necessity. He’d stayed in front of the still-crackling fire with his eyes shut until he heard her soft footfalls coming near him.  


“Would you like me to walk you home?” he asked. He knew from the level of light hitting his eyelids that it wasn’t quite dawn yet.  


She swore quietly as he stood up. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said giving her a quick look-over. Her eyes were a little red and puffy, and there was a distinct tension around her lips, but she looked all right otherwise.  


“I didn’t want to wake you,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “You don’t have to walk me home,” she added hurriedly. “I’ve taken enough of your time. Thank you though, for wanting to. For being there last night.”  


Fenris nodded. “Anytime, Hawke.”  


“I…” she shifted from foot to foot. “The next few weeks are going to be pretty busy,” she said. “I want to move out of Gamlen’s house and try to find somewhere a little more suitable for Mother. I hope though that when that’s all taken care of, you’ll visit? Then we can find some more slavers to kill.”  


He smiled at her and nodded, and though her answering smile was a little wan, it was there. She left quickly, but Fenris noticed her little fire never went out.

****

It was several weeks before Fenris heard from Hawke again, and he would have been lying if he said he wasn’t impressed when he finally visited her at her new home.  


“It was Mother’s,” Hawke said as they stood on the balcony looking down at Copper snoring by the fireplace. “When she was a girl, before she married Father.” she trailed off, looking sadly in the direction of her mother’s quarters. Fenris knew that things had been said after the return from the Deep Roads, things that’d had Hawke down in the Hanged Man doing round after round of desperate shots with Isabela.  


“She must be grateful to be home again,” Fenris said  


Hawke gave a sad little shrug.  


“Certainly you must both be glad to be out of Gamlen’s house,” Fenris said, giving her an exaggerated sly look.  


She chuckled a bit at that and then invited him to come and share a drink from her extensive cellars. This would be the first of many in her new home. Sometimes she invited others from their strange little group to join them, other times it was just the two of them. He liked those nights best, selfishly, enjoying the way she reclined in a chair by the fire and angled her body towards him. He caught himself staring at her curves often enough that he had to acknowledge that there was at least some truth to what Isabela had said. Still, it was nothing he could ever imagine acting on. Well, he could imagine plenty, but act? No. Her friendship was too valuable to him for that.


	3. The Tranquil Solution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris learns that Hawke has been actively taking steps to be able to better protect those she holds dear. Between that and harrowing discovery of the Tranquil Solution the two of them find the closeness between them growing. They take the first gentle steps towards building their intimacy.
> 
> **TW: Implied Rape/Non-Con ******

Time passed, as it did, and soon an entire year had come and gone. Hawke was settled into the Hightown mansion, and they had all settled into a semi-routine of Wicked Grace and Diamondback down at the Hanged Man and occasional missions to stay nice and sharp. He supposed it shouldn’t have surprised him when the Viscount reached out to Hawke. She had helped him with his son the previous year and had managed to be discreet about it.  


Still, when she’d left the viscount’s quarters she’d had a worried look on her face.  


“What is it?” Aveline, blunt as ever, asked.  


“Not here,” Hawke replied, glancing around at the assembled nobles. “My place.”  


Once they were safely within the confines of the Hawke mansion she confided that the viscount wanted her to meet with the Qunari.  


“I don’t know what he’s thinking,” she said, taking a sip of wine. “I’m no diplomat.”  


Still, she had gotten involved anyway, because she couldn’t help herself. It had led them to a dark alley, a mad elf, and poison that had been released into the air. Hawke had put her head down and gotten to work finding the mechanisms that would stop the release of the poison. It was when the first wave of mercenaries attacked them that Fenris learned that the incident on the Wounded Coast a year ago had had more of an impact on Hawke than he thought. He had just taken a particularly brutal cut to his ribs and was starting to pant when he felt a sudden gentle rush of energy returning to his body. He looked around wildly and saw that there was a faint bluish glow surrounding Hawke as she whirled her staff in a defensive circle. She winked at him and when he took a step closer to her to ward off one of the mercenary’s blows he realized that she’d summoned some sort of ambient healing magic less intrusive than normal healing. He threw himself back into the fray with renewed energy and though the fight was a brutal one, they had triumphed in the end. He’d felt proud to stand next to her when she told the Arishok of their victory and he’d seen the appraisal in the big Qunari’s eyes. The relief was short lived, however, as when they had brought the news to the viscount he told them that a qunari delegation had disappeared.  


“We have to tell the Arishok,” Hawke said, sounding exhausted. “If this all goes tits up and he finds out that we kept it from him it’ll only make things worse.”  
Fenris and Aveline agreed with Hawke, and while Varric had been skeptical, he’d gone along with it. The whole mess had led them back to Mother Petrice, to no one’s shock. When they discovered that the troop had been kidnapped and tortured by zealots, Fenris had seen the slump of Hawke’s shoulders. Viscount Dumar had wanted to burn the bodies and hide the evidence, but Hawke would have none of it. She’d insisted on telling the Arishok herself what had happened, earning a long, contemplative look from the oxman.  


“Panehedan, Hawke. I will keep one good thought about your kind.”  


To her credit, she managed to keep a straight face until they were in Varric’s rooms in the Hanged Man.  


“Fuck me!” she gasped, collapsing into Varric’s favorite chair and accepting the proffered glass of whisky. “I swear to the Maker, this city is going to be the end of me.”  


“You handled that well,” Fenris said, sitting next to her before anyone else could. He caught the smirk from Varric, but chose to ignore it. “The Arishok was impressed.”  


Hawke took a long drink of whisky. “I hope it helps,” she said with unusual seriousness. “That thing with Patrice has me nervous. Things are just so tense.”  


“I’ll have my guards keep a closer eye on the compound,” Aveline said, her green eyes narrowed with worry. “Make sure people aren’t causing extra trouble.”  


Hawke nodded and threw the rest of her whisky back. “Diamondback, anyone?” she said. “I saw Merril and Isabela down there.”  


“Could I speak to you for a moment, Hawke?” Fenris blurted out as they all rose. “I had a question.”  


Hawke blinked at him and Varric chuckled. “C’mon, Aveline,” he said. “Before things get awkward.”  


Fenris shot the dwarf a look, but remained silent until he heard Varric’s “Rivaini!!” and Isabela’s corresponding comment about his chest hair, then he turned to Hawke.  


She had an eyebrow raised as she poured more of Varric’s excellent whisky for both of them. “Is there something wrong?” she asked, plopping back down into the best chair. “No one in Hightown has been giving you trouble have they?”  


Fenris shook his head and moved the chair facing her close enough that their knees were almost touching when he sat. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened in the alley.”  


She still looked a little puzzled. “About the saar qamek?” she asked. “I know you have a history with the Qunari-”  


“No,” Fenris said. He realized that his heart was beating quite fast. “You...you healed me. Us. I-I thought you were better at making things explode than healing magic.”  


She let out a little chuff of laughter, her expression a mixture of relief and chagrin. “Ah, that.” She took a sip of whisky and then ran her finger along the rim of the glass. “For what it’s worth, what happened on the Wounded Coast was only part of the reason I started to pursue learning more about healing magic. I didn’t enjoy being useless then, and I enjoyed it even less in the Deep Roads.”  


There wasn’t much he could say to that, so he just nodded.  


“I hope it was ok,” she said, meeting his eyes. “I figured you’d be more comfortable with me healing you than Anders, especially if I can use magic that doesn’t involve touching you.”  


“I would not mind you touching me,” Fenris said. “But I appreciate the thought.”  


The implications of what he said only occurred to him when Hawke blushed very prettily and offered a shy smile as she met his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind either,” she said softly. “But you know what I mean.”  


“I do,” Fenris rasped. His throat had suddenly gone very dry. They were straying into new territory. They had flirted some over the course of their acquaintance, but this felt more...definite. “And I am sincerely grateful for the consideration. I-I am not accustomed to it.”  


“You should get used to it,” Hawke said, her tone back into the normal registers of her teasing. “I’m a considerate woman.”  


“Indeed,” Fenris said, smiling at her. He rose and offered her his hand, and she grasped it and hauled herself out of the low, plush chair. However, when she was on her feet she didn’t let go right away, instead looking at him as though she had more to say. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head and released his fingers and Fenris found himself sorry to let her go.  


They played Diamondback into the wee small hours, only breaking up the game when Hawke yawned loudly and rose from the table. She stretched and gave everyone a rueful smile. “I’m getting old,” she said. “I think I need to actually sleep tonight. It’s been...a long day.”  


There was a general scraping back of chairs as the party broke up and people began to disperse. Aveline had left much earlier, citing her duties, which left Fenris and Hawke alone to walk back to Hightown. They walked in companionable silence for awhile before Fenris had the unmistakable sensation that Hawke was looking at him.  


“Did you mean what you said?” Hawke asked him suddenly.  


“I am not in the habit of saying things I do not mean,” Fenris replied. “But may I ask what, specifically, you are referring to?”  


“Not minding me touching you,” Hawke said, direct as ever.  


His heart began to hammer at his chest. “Ah,” he said, stalling for time. “I...have not touched anyone outside of battle in a long time, Hawke. Or...if I have, I do not remember. But the thought of you touching me does not fill me with revulsion like it would with the abomination.”  


She flinched a little bit. “I-that’s just what a girl likes to hear. It’s nice to know one doesn’t inspire revulsion.”  


“Fasta vass,” Fenris said, shaking his head. “That is not what I meant, Hawke.”  


“Then what did you mean?” she asked, stopping and looking at him with her hands on her hips. “I am what I am, Fenris. I can’t change it, nor would I want to.”  


“I would not change you either,” Fenris said with feeling, realizing in that moment that he meant it. He had his feelings about mages, to be certain, but Hawke was just...Hawke. Her magic was as much a part of her as her dark skin and golden eyes. And to her credit, in the time he’d known her she had done nothing but use her power to try and make things better. “I will not pretend to be comfortable with all mages, Hawke. But I am comfortable with you. That is all I was trying to say.”  


Her expression softened a little. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I-that means more to me than I can say coming from you.” She turned to walk again, and he fell into step at her side. She was walking closer to him now, and he felt the barest flicker of the lyrium in his hand when her small, warm fingers intertwined with his.  
“Is this ok?” she asked quietly, her thumb brushing softly over the back of his hand.  


Fenris hesitated for a moment, feeling the gooseflesh rising up on his arms at her gentle caress. He sensed Hawke beginning to pull away, but he tightened his fingers, clasping her hand within his. “Yes,” he said simply. He glanced over at her and she favored him with one of the warmest smiles he’d ever seen. He couldn’t help but smile back, and from then on, that was how they walked home from the Hanged Man.

****

The Tranquil Solution. Fenris could hardly deny that he’d often thought that for some mages Tranquility represented the obvious best solution. However, as they followed Anders on the trail of Ser Alrik, Fenris had to admit that what they were seeing and hearing was extreme even by his measure. It all came to a head in a cave, as it often seemed to for them. They had walked in to the Templars threatening a terrified looking mage girl, but even Anders had held back from interfering at first; bringing in escaped mages was their right. Then Alrik spoke again.  


“You know what happens to mage girls who don’t toe the line around here, don’t you?” His tone immediately put Fenris’ back up. He had heard it before from his former master and his cronies.  


“Please, no! Don’t make me Tranquil. I’ll do anything!” the girl had gasped.  


“That’s right, once you’re Tranquil you’ll do anything I ask.”  


“The Chantry frowns on Templars who take personal advantage of their charges,” Hawke was speaking and moving forward, her staff already whirling in deadly motion. She had scarcely finished speaking before she was raining down devastating fire upon the Templars, careful to keep the girl out of the attack. The fight was hard, though Hawke’s new skill at healing made a profound difference. When the last Templar fell Fenris thought he could catch his breath, but Anders had begun to glow and advance on the girl ranting about how she was the Templar’s creature. Before Fenris could react, Hawke was interposing herself between the abomination and the other mage.  


“She’s the reason you’re fighting, Anders!” she said as the abomination drew closer. “Don’t turn on her now!”  


He could see Anders visible effort to regain control, and then the blue glow that signified Justice’s presence disappeared and Anders was left panting and looking stricken. Hawke hadn’t tried to stop him when he fled, instead focusing on sending the mage girl to safety. It wouldn’t have been his choice, but he could scarcely blame her for not sending the girl back to the Circle after what they had just witnessed.  


They were silent as they left the cavern and on the long walk back to Kirkwall, and Hawke had split off from them once they’d gotten back, wanting to check on Anders. Varric had invited him for drinks, but Fenris just wanted to be alone. He had a lot to think about.  


He went back to the mansion and into one of the few relatively clean rooms there. He’d cleaned the broken furniture and bodies out, turning it into a space where he could practice his sword forms, stretch, and generally keep himself in fighting shape when they didn’t have things going on. He was in the middle of a complicated series of stretches when he heard the door downstairs open.  


“Fenris?”  


“Up here!” he called back, relaxing instantly at Hawke’s voice. He heard her thunderous footfalls up the stairs and down the hall, and when she opened the door the look on her face made him want to wrap his arms around her.  


“What do you need?” he asked.  


She blinked and then sat down hard on the floor. “I-I was expecting you to ask if I was ok.”  


“You aren’t,” Fenris said. “Neither is Anders, I imagine. That was...grim. I am sure the mage girl-”  


“Ella,” Hawke corrected, meeting his eyes.  


“I am sure Ella was grateful for your intervention,” Fenris said. “Both times.”  


Hawke gave the slightest of smiles. “I am glad that she’s free,” she said. “There are so many who aren’t so lucky.” She wrapped her arms around her knees. “I have been thinking,” she said.  


“Oh?”  


“I don’t know if you know, but I started training with the guard,” Hawke said. “Nothing official, you understand, but when they run their training courses, I go with them. I spar with them, no magic, of course.”  


“I didn’t know,” Fenris said honestly. “I think it is wise, however.”  


Hawke favored him with a wan smile. “I don’t think it’s enough,” she said. It was then that Fenris realized that between their time chasing Alrik and her arrival, Hawke had changed clothes. She was wearing an outfit much closer to his own under layers. Black, padded wool, bare feet, a fitted black top with sleeves tightly bound to her forearms. “I want to spar with you,” she said.  


Fenris hesitated. “Why?”  


"Well, for one thing, Aveline’s guards know she and I are friends and they are scared to hit me.” She gave him an appraising look. “I don’t think you will be the same way since that attitude is kind of useless. But you fight differently than they do and I...with your...abilities, I think that if I can hold my own against you I’ll be ok with...anything else I face.”  


“You are worried about Templars,” Fenris said.  


“Always,” Hawke said with a bitter laugh. “But today really brought it home to me. If I were caught alone, without my magic, with a Templar who can’t be bought...what would I do? There’s only so far a swift kick to the danglers will get you.”  


“Farther than you think,” Fenris said with a chuckle, “But I see your point and I do not disagree. Without your magic, you would be at a disadvantage.”  


“What if I met another Templar like Alrik?” Hawke said. “If he could...incapacitate me, then make me Tranquil. Maker, Fenris, it’s literally the stuff of my nightmares. If we hadn’t been there for Ella, the things he-they would have done to her…” Her eyes were wide and had more fear in them than he’d ever seen from her. “Fenris, what if one of them, one of Alrik’s kind of Templars comes after me? Someone like me who has been an apostate my whole life? Fuck... they...men like that love to _break_ people like me.”  


_You don’t have to tell me, _Fenris thought with a shudder. He knew the type only too well.  
__

____

“I’m sorry,” Hawke said, consternation written all over her face. “You know that better than anyone I know.”  
He found himself marveling, not for the first time, at how clearly she saw him. If it had been anyone but Hawke, it would have terrified him. He realized that Hawke had taken a step closer to him, her eyes seeking his out. “I...you don’t have to, but if you ever want to talk about it...I’ll always listen. You aren’t alone anymore.”  


____

He grimaced and shook his head. “I-it is painful to talk about, Hawke. And I see no point. It is done. One day I will repay Danarius tenfold for what he has done.”  


____

She nodded. “I understand...well, not exactly, but...The offer is there, if you ever change your mind.”  


____

“Thank you,” he said, “Truly. I am...unaccustomed to having someone with whom I would feel comfortable sharing something so painful.” The realization that he meant those words added to how awful the thought of a person like Alrik cornering her was. He couldn’t allow it. “Stand up,” he said.  


____

She did as he asked, looking at him curiously.  


____

“I am a Templar,” Fenris said. “I have cornered you. What do you do?” He began to stalk towards her, keeping his hands loose at his sides.  


____

“No time like the present, eh?” Hawke laughed, though she backed up right away.  


____

He didn’t respond, instead focusing on closing the distance between them without any sudden movements.  


Hawke noticed, however, and bolted for the door nearest to her. She slammed it shut behind her and Fenris let it happen. He was curious to see what she would do. He heard the sound of her running down the stairs and across the foyer before he opened the door and followed. He was most of the way down the stairs when a hand snaked out and grabbed his ankle, and to Hawke’s credit, it did surprise him. He stumbled down the stairs as she bolted for his front door, and instinct had him tapping into his lyrium powers to catch her and slam her to the ground.  


____

“Damn it, Fenris!” she snarled up at him, bucking her hips and writhing to get out from under him. “Templars can’t do that!” she followed up by Mind Blasting him away from her, sending him flying back across the atrium.  


____

“And if I were a Templar bent on negating your magic, you wouldn’t be able to do that,” Fenris groaned, rising with a wince.  


____

Hawke looked like she wanted to retort, but thought better of it. “I can’t do this tonight,” she said, clambering to her feet. “This was a mistake. I’m too...upset. I could hurt you.”  


____

Fenris closed the distance between them with a few steps. “Tomorrow?”  


____

“Tomorrow,” she said, her jaw set in a stubborn line. “I-I’m sorry for using magic on you without your permission," she said looking suddenly worried. "I didn't... It's a reflex." She took a deep breath. "That's no excuse though. I'm sorry."  


____

He smiled a little ruefully and surprised both of them with his reply. “I _did_ cheat.”  


____

She hesitated. “Fenris? Do you have any magebane?”  


____

“Yes,” he said. He had several varieties that could be given in several ways.  


____

One of her dark eyebrows arched, but she didn’t say anything about it. “Have some that I can take tomorrow, all right? As long as you promise not to use your tattoos.”  


____

“Are you sure?” he asked.  


____

“Positive,” she said. “I need to learn how to fight with my magic not even being an option.”  


____

“As you wish,” he said. She turned to go, but he caught her hand as she did. “Hawke I...I hope you know that I would never let them take you.”  


____

She stared at him for a long moment, then stepped close and wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug. He found himself folding her into his arms, pressing her to him like Templars were banging on the door demanding that he send the mage out.  


____

“I know,” she whispered into his ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. She pulled back just a little, her eyes wide as they looked up into his. “Thank you.” Her lovely full lips were just slightly parted and before he really thought about what he was doing he leaned down and brushed his lips against them. She made a soft little sound of want and pressed the length of her body against his, kissing him back. His whole body was filled with the feeling of her, but instead of being scary, it was incredible.  


____

She pulled back, to his infinite chagrin, and looked up at him with worry in her eyes. “Are you...was that ok?”  


____

He rested his forehead against hers. “Yes,” he whispered, astonished that it was in fact the truth. His heart was pounding, but it was exhilarating, rather than terrifying.  


____

“I should go,” she whispered, smiling. “This was a lot for one day.”  


____

He hated that he agreed, but he put his palm against her cheek and stole the briefest of kisses before she grinned at him and hurried home.  


____

His sleep was restless that night, plagued by nightmares of Alrik and his Templars rounding up Hawke and other apostates. _Hawke looking up at him, her spirited eyes dulled beneath the weight of the Chantry sunburst. Alrik’s smile as he pushed her to her knees. But worst of all, Fenris there, helping Alrik round up mages like her. Holding them down for the Rite of Tranquility. His glowing hand ripping ripping out their hearts one by one until at last it was only Hawke left. She didn’t fight him any more than the rest of them, and even as she collapsed to the floor with a hole in her chest where her heart had been, there was a bland, pleasant smile on her face._ He awoke sweating, more determined than ever to make sure that Hawke had the tools she needed to protect herself. It was much earlier than he usually woke, but it wasn’t long after he’d washed his face and forced himself to eat a little bread that there was a knock on his door. He went to answer it and there was Hawke, looking bedraggled and tired.  


____

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, nudging past him and shutting the door a little harder than was necessary. She leaned against it, looking at him from under her eyelashes. She didn’t say anything about the kiss, but he could feel it there in the air between them.  


____

“Me neither,” he admitted, stepping closer to her. She watched him, a small smile on her face, but didn’t move. He realized that she was leaving everything up to him and the rush of warmth he felt towards her was so intense that he had to close the distance between them and press his body to hers. She gave a soft little gasp and looked up at him, her arms going around his neck as he kissed her again, harder this time. She parted her lips beneath his and he tentatively brushed her lower one with his tongue, loving how she tasted.  


____

“Fenris,” she whispered, her breath coming faster.  


____

“Hawke,” he said back, his body still flush against hers. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have presumed-”  


____

“Please presume,” she said quietly with a little grin. “Presume as hard as you want.”  


____

Her words send an intense wave of need through him and he heard himself growl something incomprehensible and shove her against the door, claiming her lips with his again. He had never felt anything like the need that he had for her in that moment and he found himself wanting things, wishing for things that he’d never thought of before. He slid one knee between her thighs and heard her groan as she parted her legs and rocked against him. He pulled himself away with an effort, acutely aware of how hard he’d gotten. He felt a blush rising on his cheeks. What must she think of him?  


____

She patted the flat of her palm against his chest. “Fuck,” she whispered, but he was pleased to see she was smiling. “That was a pretty fucking awesome way to wake up, Fenris. But we should...you know...spar.”  


____

“I suppose,” he chuckled. “But that was...all right?”  


____

“Mmmm,” she said with a smile. “Better than.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Magebane,” she said with determination. He gestured for her to follow him to the kitchen where he swung the kettle out over the fire. They watched it boil together, and he saw the frisson of fear run up her spine as he poured the potion into her glass. She drank it without complaint, but the impact was almost instant.  


____

“Maker,” she whispered as she doubled over and clutched one of the kitchen stools.  


____

“Hawke?”  


____

“I-I’ve never...fuck...fuck this is horrible.”  


____

He stood at her elbow, feeling awkward and useless. What had he done?  


____

“Fenris,” she whispered. “I’m so damn cold.”  


____

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his chest. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling like a jackass. She nestled into him, shivering. 

____

“I can’t feel my magic,” she said quietly. “It’s like losing an arm. Fuck...fuck…” she shuddered against him and he tightened his arm without thinking. “Maker, I have nothing.” her voice sounded horribly thick and when he looked down at her her eyes were shiny with tears and the whites were showing all around like a frightened animal. “I am nothing without my magic, Fenris. I don’t even have a prayer!” She melted away from him and curled up in the corner, her arms around her legs as she rocked back and forth.  


____

He realized then that he was seeing the effects of someone who had never been exposed to magebane suddenly taking a dose meant for a senior circle enchanter (or magister) who had dealt with it before. He had to snap her out of it. “Hawke,” he said sternly. “You know that’s not true. You are more than capable even without your magic.”  


____

“I should have joined a circle,” she said as though she hadn’t heard him. “Then I’d be safe.”  


____

“Stop it,” Fenris said, hating that he hard echoes of his own words. He felt like a hypocrite, because if it was any other mage saying it he would be agreeing wholeheartedly. But from Hawke...it felt like defeat and he hated it.  


____

He wasn’t prepared for her to shove him away and run, so when she did he stumbled into the far wall and she got a head start. Her footsteps and the slam of the door told him that she was in his bedroom. He forced himself to take a moment, rather than pursuing immediately. He knew she was terrified. Then he walked up to his door and knocked gently.  


____

“Hawke,” he said softly. “I am going to open the door, and we are going to talk.”  


____

There was no response.  


____

He opened the door slowly and there was Hawke, wrapped up in the same green blanket he’d put on her when he found her in the cellar.  


____

“Fenris,” she whispered, sounding more like herself though her voice still shook horribly. “Fuck me, I’m gonna need you to lower the dose in the future, ok? I get that you want to fuck up any magisters that come for you, but I’m just...me.”  


____

“I am so sorry,” he said, sitting down next to her and the fire.  


____

“Is this the fire that I made after the Deep Roads?” she asked. “It feels familiar.” She held out her hands and the flames leapt towards her like eager kittens. She laughed quietly. “I guess so.”  


____

“It’s very warm,” Fenris said. What else could he say? That sand, water, wool, nothing had snuffed it out? It just lived there in his hearth. “Hawke-”  


____

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I-...I should have mentioned that I’ve never had magebane. I...it never occurred to me that it might be like if I’d never had a drink before and challenged Isabela to a drinking contest.” She gave him an appraising look. “You are prepared for some serious shit.”  


____

He nodded and she reached out towards him, inviting him under the blanket. He hesitated only briefly before joining her. She leaned into his side, letting him wrap an arm around her. They stayed that way for a few minutes, and Fenris was gazing into the fire when her voice startled him. “I would never let them take you either,” she said.  
He looked at her and her golden eyes were tilted up towards him. “If Danarius, or anyone tried to take you, they would have to go through me first,” she said. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but words failed her.  


____

“Hawke-” he sounded broken, even to himself. He raised his hand to stroke her cheek and then caught her chin in his fingers.  


____

“I mean it,” she whispered. “I would-”  


____

But he didn’t give her a chance to say what she would. His lips found hers with an intensity that scared him just a little. She leaned into the kiss, making a soft little sound of need that made him clasp her to him like a drowning man clasps driftwood. They were both breathless when the kiss broke, and Fenris found himself stroking her curls with his forehead pressed to hers.  


____

“Fuck,” she whispered with a little laugh. “That was…”  


____

“Yes,” he agreed.  


____

She pulled back a little and looked into his eyes with a wry smile. “I should go,” she said gently. “Same time tomorrow, then?” She made as if to rise.  


____

“Hawke,” he whispered.  


____

She hesitated.  


____

“Stay,” he said softly. He felt her shudder against him and felt an answering response in his groin that took him by surprise.  


____

“I don’t think I should,” she said softly. “I - I’m scared, Fenris. This is the first time I’ve been cut off from my power. If..when you and I spend the night, I want it to just be good. I don’t want either of us to be worried that it isn’t...real. I don’t want it to be tainted by anything.”  


____

“That is what I want as well,” he said, hating that it was true.  


____

She smiled at him slightly sadly and rose, though she allowed him to walk her to the door. They hugged there and Fenris had carried the feeling with him for weeks afterwards. She’d melted against him, pressing the whole of her body against his. The look she’d given him had spoken of deeper needs, but she’d only touched his cheek and run off towards her estate.  


____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly wasn't 100% sure what the effects of magebane would look like, so I made my best guess.


	4. Shartan & Snuggles *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After journeying into the Fade to help the Dreamer Faynriel, Hawke's tutelage leads Fenris to revealing some of his past. 
> 
> **TW: Discussion of past rape/non-con ******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have included a TW with this chapter because of the nature of Fenris and his relationship with Danarius. I know that we don't know the specifics of what went on during Fenris' time with Danarius. However, to me it always has read that there was a sexual relationship between the two of them. Obviously due to the power dynamics of being literal master/slave Fenris couldn't have consented to the relationship. I do think his own feelings about it are conflicted, something I tried to illustrate in this chapter. This dynamic will come up again later and I just don't want it to blindside anyone.

The next night she had been ready. One would have never guessed it was her second exposure to Magebane. Fenris had told her to hide and find a way to get out past him and she had disappeared into the darkness of the unused parts of his mansion. He just stood where she’d left him listening. He heard what sounded like furniture moving upstairs and followed the sound to one of the unused bedrooms. The door offered resistance when he pushed on it, but it was no match for his strength. He shouldered it open, shoving an old armoire out of the way, and prepared to attack. But much to his chagrin, he found himself staring at an empty room and an open window.  


He blinked. He knew that Hawke was...brave, but they were up a solid fifteen feet from the ground. Surely she wasn’t so impetuous as to jump? He took a few hesitant steps towards the window and was about to lean over the casement when he heard the sound of motion behind him. He turned around and saw the ancient armoire shudder slightly.  


“Fuck,” Hawke’s voice said from within. “This didn’t go quite how I planned.”  


Fenris hurried to the old piece of furniture and opened the doors to reveal a slightly bedraggled looking Hawke crouched inside. He wanted to laugh at the extremely put out expression on her face, but they had only just started their training session and he wanted to see how creative she could be. Instead of laughing, he curled his lip and did his best to channel the hauteur of his former master.  


“You would have been better off jumping out the window, little mage,” he said softly. “A broken leg is nothing compared to what I am going to do to you.”  


Her eyes widened as she recoiled from him and though it made his heart hurt, he forced himself to maintain the facade. “Now,” he said, “are you going to come quietly?”  


She snarled at that and kicked out at him, aiming for his knee. He’d anticipated it and grabbed her ankle, jerking her out of the armoire and onto the floor. She landed hard, but never stopped thrashing. He held on through her onslaught, tightening his grip until she let out a quiet whimper of pain and stilled. “Good,” he said softly. “Get up.”  


She did as he bade, but stumbled into him with a little gasp of pain as she put weight on the ankle he’d grabbed. He glanced down, worried, and that’s when she shoved him and bolted. She was out the door so quickly that if he hadn’t given her the magebane himself he’d have called it magic. He lurched after her, a feral smile on his face as he chased her down the hallway. She made it into the large foyer before him and launched herself over the railing, tucking into a roll when she landed. She sprang up to her feet and made for the door, but Fenris was right behind her. She made it through it before Fenris launched himself at her, knocking her to the floor. They went down in a tangle of limbs as she struggled to extricate herself and continue her escape. Fenris flipped her to her back effortlessly, pinning her arms over her head. He leaned in close to her ear.  


“Caught you,” he whispered. He felt the frisson of tension run through her and heard the soft little gasp that his words drew from her. He hadn’t intended for it to sound so...suggestive.  


“What are you going to do with me?” she breathed, her eyelashes fluttering over her luminous golden eyes.  


“That is a good question,” Fenris said, gathering both of her wrists into one hand and bringing the other down to caress her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his. He had done his best to keep his more...lascivious thoughts firmly under control, but in that moment, with her body beneath his, he felt a sudden rush of need. He wanted her in a way that he couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone. Her lips parted as she looked up at him, and he wanted to taste their full softness again. He leaned in closer, letting the tip of his nose brush against hers.  


“Hawke,” he said softly.  


“Fenris,” she replied, meeting his eyes and rocking her hips ever so slightly. He knew that he was hard, knew that she could feel it, but in that moment he just didn’t care.  


He released her hands and cupped his around her cheeks, looking down into her eyes. The kiss was a gentle one, the barest brushing of his lips to hers. He was afraid that if he tried anything more he would lose all control and ravish her right there on his filthy floor.  


He felt the smile on her lips and couldn’t help but smile back as he broke the kiss and looked down at her. There was so much he wanted to say. She broke some of the tension by kissing the tip of his nose with a quiet laugh.  


“We are terrible at sparring,” she said.  


“So it would seem,” he replied, resting his forehead against hers. She’d told him one night during a visit to his mansion that there was no one else that had her attention, but he’d never allowed himself to imagine this, the easy intimacy that he felt with her. He felt her hands wrap around him and rest in the small of his back, gently rubbing the area. He arched into her touch unconsciously, feeling the subtle warmth that emanated from her fingers. “Hawke...I’m an escaped slave and an elf, living in a borrowed mansion. None of these things bother you?”  


She shrugged beneath him, cocking her head. “And I’m an apostate refugee. Does that bother you?”  


“You have me there,” he replied.  


She kissed his cheek softly. “It would appear that I do,” she said with a soft little smile. Fenris raised an eyebrow and chuckled at her words. Reluctantly he rose to his feet and pulled her up with him. If they stayed lying like that he wasn’t sure that he could keep from doing something...precipitous.  


“Hawke,” he said, hearing how ragged his voice sounded. “I…”  


“Take all the time you need,” she said, bringing her hand up to caress his cheek. She glanced at the windows and sighed. “Though I should probably get home. Mother will be worried. I’m not usually out so early.”  


Fenris walked her to the door and stood in the doorway watching as she walked back towards her house. He was certain that her hips were swaying much more than they typically did, and he couldn’t help but smile. 

****

He never should have agreed to go with her into the Fade. She had offered to help the Dreamer Faynriel because of course she had, and the whole sorry mess had led them into the actual, literal fade. He hated it and Aveline hadn’t been any happier. But it was Hawke, and she needed their help, so they went.  


But the demon had gotten to him. “But you fear them still…with my aid, you could be free forever.” It had goaded him, until he had done the unthinkable and attacked Hawke. She was not hampered by magebane, and while his pride wouldn’t allow him to say she’d made short work of him, she had certainly bested him. He’d woken up in the alienage and had not been able to look her in the eyes when she returned. He contemplated fleeing the city, so great was his shame, but he couldn’t just leave her. Instead, he’d had a glass of the aggregio and made his way to her home.  


“I have been thinking about what happened in the Fade,” he said without preamble when she let him in. “That a demon could have played so easily on my fears...disturbs me. I failed you. I won’t let that happen again.”  


_If there is an ‘again’_ , he thought darkly. Why would she want him around now when he had so plainly shown he couldn’t be trusted?  


“Everyone gets one free demonic possession before I hold it against them,” she said with easy good humor.  


He’d managed to choke out “good to know”, but he was unsettled by the look in her eyes. “What is it?” he asked.  


“Do you understand now, at least a little, how it isn’t all black and white?” she asked. Never had her golden eyes looked more like wolf’s eyes. They pinned him in place, leaving him feeling exposed. “You have no magic of your own, you aren’t...called by the Fade at all. I am sorry that the demon reached you because that’s…” she shuddered. “But maybe now you’ll be just a little bit more...understanding?”  


He’d wanted to retort, but after what happened he didn’t really have a position to do so. He knew that she knew this and that was why she was choosing this particular moment to twist the knife. Her forgiveness wasn’t conditional, exactly, but it came with a lesson.  


“I understand,” he said, looking away from her and into the fireplace. He hated that he did.  


“Thank you,” she said quietly. There was an awkward silence between them for a moment and then her hand flew to her lips. “Maker!” she said. “I almost forgot! I have something for you!”  


_I betray you and you get me a present?_ Fenris thought.  


Hawke all but bounced over to her desk and pulled out a book. She handed it to him with an expectant smile.  


“It...it’s a book,” he said.  


“I see your eyesight is still working fine,” she said, sounding a little exasperated. “The book is by Shartan, the elf who helped Andraste free the slaves. You know about him, right?”  


His heart had started to beat quickly as he realized that on the heels of his betrayal, his failure, he was going to have to admit another shortcoming. But Hawke had seemed...unaffected by his admission that he couldn’t read. Instead, she’d offered to teach him. And so things settled into a new rhythm. In the mornings, they sparred and in the evenings they read. Hawke was a patient teacher, which had surprised him a little. It wasn’t that she wasn’t kind, but she had a very low tolerance for foolishness and Fenris felt foolish indeed when he read to her.  


“Fasta vass!” he said one night, throwing the book down onto the couch as he rose to his feet and went to the sideboard for some wine. “This is hopeless, Hawke! I’m hopeless.”  


“Stop it,” she said softly, not moving from her spot on the couch. “That isn’t true. You’ve been making amazing progress.”  


“Do not patronize me!” he heard himself snarl as he closed the distance between them.  


She raised an eyebrow. “We can stop, if you like. But I don’t deserve you venting your spleen on me and you know it. I’m trying to help.”  


He forced himself to take a deep breath. “I know.” he said curtly. “I’m sorry.”  


“Sit down,” she said, patting the spot on the couch next to her.  


He did as she asked, but jumped when she tapped his shoulder. “I want to try something, if you’ll let me. Turn around, so your back is to me.”  


“Why?”  


“I think it will be easier for you if I’m not looking at you,” she said. “C’mon.”  


He did as she asked, balancing Shartan’s book on his knees with his back to her. He was about to say something when he felt her hesitant touch on his temple. “Are you hurting?” she asked.  


“A little headache,” he admitted.  


"Lean back,” she said, stretching her legs out on either side of him. He did as she asked, trying not to focus too much on how her breasts felt against his back. She reached up and began to massage his temples, softly. She pressed on them with her fingertips, then slowly drew her fingers in towards his eyes and the bridge of his nose. He felt the gentle warmth that always lingered in her hands as she massaged his head, chasing away the tension that had been there moments before.  


“Hawke,” he breathed, letting the full weight of his head fall back against her.  


Her fingers moved to his scalp as she stroked her fingernails along it softly. “Shhhh,” she said, applying a little more pressure. “Just relax.”  


He did as she asked, startling himself with a soft moan as her fingertips moved to the base of his skull. Her clever fingers rubbed in gentle circles and he felt the tension go out of his neck and shoulders.  


“Better?” she asked, her fingers beginning to trail back through his hair.  


“Much,” he whispered. He felt so...light in that moment, so cared for, that he felt emboldened to pick the book back up and try to struggle through it again. Hawke kept up the gentle caresses while he read, and it turned out that she was right. If he couldn’t see her looking at him it was much easier. They got through more of the book in that evening than they had in the previous three.  


“I told you you were doing great,” she said when he finally closed the book and leaned back against her.  


He squeezed her knee in response, feeling accomplished and more than a little tired.  


“Close your eyes,” she said, her fingernails trailing along his scalp. He could hardly deny her. Her gentle hands traveled all over his head, seeking out tension and chasing it away with soft caresses. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so relaxed. He should have been prepared, but he wasn’t. He fell asleep under her gentle ministrations and soon began to dream. 

_“Such a good little wolf,” Danarius said, stroking his hair and looking down at him indulgently. Fenris was on his knees between his master’s legs, his master’s hands in his hair tugging him closer._

_He knew what he was supposed to do. He had done it countless times before. He would take Danarius into his mouth and his master would be pleased with him. Perhaps he would even know his own pleasure this night._

_He shifted a little, the tiles of the floor were cold against his knees. Fenris was naked. He was always naked when they were in private. Danarius liked to look at his figure. Liked to see his handiwork.  
_

_“You know what you must do,” his master said, tugging Fenris’ hair and pulling him closer. “Be a good boy and make your master happy.”  
_

_But something was wrong. The action felt familiar, and yet there was something stopping him. Something told him that he didn’t have to do this anymore. He could say no.  
_

_“I will not,” he said, pushing away.  
_

_Danarius raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were past petty rebellion, my little wolf,” he said. “A few years away and you think that you are a free man.” The magister’s smile was cold. “But you carry me with you, Fenris,” he said, stroking Fenris’ hair. “And soon, we shall meet again. And perhaps you will introduce me to your friend. We’ll have to remind her who you belong to, of course. I do hate to share.”  
_

_And then here Hawke was, on the chaise lounge that faced the chair where Danarius liked to take him. She was bound at the wrists and ankles and her eyes were wide with fear.  
_

_“You’ve forgotten who you belong to,” Danarius said, jerking him forward by the hair. “She will pay for your choices, and then perhaps we won’t have to go through this unpleasantness again.”  
_

_Big men appeared on either side of Hawke wearing Templar uniforms. She moaned with fear as they jerked her to her feet. One of them produced an ugly knife and began to cut her clothes away.  
_

_“Master, please!” Fenris begged, grasping at Danarius’ robes. “Please-don’t hurt her. I-I will do anything.”  
_

_“Don’t, Fenris!” Hawke said, even as tears trickled down her face. “It’s not worth it. Let them do what they want. You’re a free man!”  
_

_One of the big men hit her then, and Fenris launched himself in her direction without a thought._

The floor of Hawke’s office hurt enough to shock Fenris out of his nightmare when he landed on it. Hawke was on the couch looking at him with an alarmed expression. “Fenris!”  


He groaned and rolled over to get his knees under him. “I’m fine,” he growled.  


“Like hell you are,” she said, rising and offering her hand. “What was that about?” she asked. “You were dead asleep and then you started to twitch and talk.”  


Fenris swatted her hand away. “What did I say?” he asked, suddenly horrified.  


Hawke’s expression was level. “You said his name,” she said. “And mine.”  


Fenris sank back down onto the couch, rubbing his face with both hands. “Hawke...I need to tell you something.”  


“You can tell me anything,” she whispered and he felt her weight move closer to him on the couch. She didn’t touch him though, just waited at his side with quiet patience.  


“Danarius...I-I was more than just his bodyguard,” he blurted out. He felt the shame in his belly like a whole barrel of writhing eels, but the way she made him feel...she had to know the truth of him if they were going to be together in any capacity. “I was his...Fenedhis...his _toy_ , Hawke. His lover. His whipping boy when he was angry. Whatever he needed. Whatever he _wanted_. ” He gritted his teeth to spit out the next part. “And I-there was a time I _craved_ it. Craved his approval. His touch. To please him...in any way...in _every…single...way_.” He shook his head, completely unable to meet her eyes. “You must think I am disgusting.”  


“Why would I think that?” she asked calmly. “How could I possibly think that of you, Fenris?”  


“Because I-I was...because I allowed-”  


“You were a slave,” she said softly. “You did what you had to do to survive. And that led you here. To me. In my eyes you are the strongest, bravest man that it’s ever been my privilege to know.”  


“You don’t mean that,” he said, finally allowing himself to meet her eyes. He knew the instant that he did that she meant every word. “How can you mean that?” he heard himself whisper.  


“Because I know you,” she said. “You’ve shown me. You’re the man who would keep the templars from ever getting me, right? Despite how you feel about mages and what the magister did to you.”  


He nodded, reaching out to take her hand and allowing her gentle touch to ground him. It didn’t feel like when Danarius or anyone else touched him. “I would never let them take you,” he said as much to reassure himself as anything else.  


She squeezed his hand softly, obviously worried about upsetting him. “And they would have to kill me to ever have another chance to hurt you,” she said, her eyes locked on his and he saw the raw power that waited there like a slumbering dragon. “And I promise you, Fenris...I’d make them work for it.”  


“Hawke,” he somehow managed to choke out past the lump in his throat. “I’d never-”  


“And I’d do it anyway,” she said with a warm smile. “I...should I let you go home?” she asked. “ You look so exhausted. I-feel awful for triggering all of this.”  


“It’s not your fault,” he said, closing his eyes again. “It...I enjoyed what you were doing. It’s the most relaxed I’ve felt in years. I just…” he caught her hand and squeezed it, though he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. “I saw a piece of...I remembered something he used to have me do. And then you were there.”  


“Me?”  


Fenris nodded. “Danarius...he loved to show me off. He loved me to be seen. But he never let anyone else touch me. I was his. You...us... _this_...would enrage him.” He shivered. “He would hurt you very badly. The things Alrik and his Templars would do...they would be _nothing_ next to the things Danarius and his ‘friends’ would dream up.” He felt the shiver go through her and he pulled her closer to him, needing her warmth and the security of her presence. He couldn’t tell her, it was too soon to tell her that he was pretty sure that if Danarius showed up and threatened her, he would return to his master if it meant protecting her. So, he kissed her, because nothing else could fill the silence like he needed. She held him to her tightly, though he noted that she kept her hands away from his hair. He pulled back and kissed her cheeks, then took her hands and slid them into his hair. “Please,” he said softly, unsure of exactly what he was asking for. Please...make it better. Please... turn the horrible memory into something good.  


“Are you sure?” she whispered.  


He kissed her again, harder this time, parting his lips and caressing hers with his tongue. He felt her fingers tighten in his hair and rather than feeling fear or horror, he felt...peace. He pulled her up into his lap, clutching her to him as his hands traveled down her back to cup her ass. She responded with the most delicious rocking of her hips and it took all of his self-control not to throw her down and rip her clothes off. He knew he was too frayed, he could feel how close he was to flying apart after his dream, but he needed to feel her, to ground himself in something real and good. It was that thought that drove him to break the kiss. She deserved more than being used to help him feel better.  


“You could stay tonight,” she said, stroking the hair away from his temples. “If you want to.”  


“I want to,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips. “But I think it would be better if I went home tonight. I am...not myself.”  


He saw the pain flicker across her face before she schooled it into a kind smile. “Whatever you need,” she said quietly.  


_I need you _, he thought, realizing with some fear that it was the truth. “Sparring tomorrow?” he asked.  
__

__She chuckled and it only sounded a little forced. “Not as early as usual, if you don’t mind.”  
_ _

__He inclined his head. “Fair enough,” he said. He took his leave then, before he could say anything else. Words he felt uncomfortable with were in the forefront of his mind. How was it that a mage, of all people, had won such a prominent place in his heart?  
_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight cannon divergence of moving the "I'm an escaped elf" conversation! I am trying to stick to explicit cannon as much as I can, but that conversation felt really organic here so I went with it.
> 
> I also gave Hawke a little bit of an opportunity to say something to Fenris about what happened in the Fade. I wish there had been a chance to have a conversation like this in the game. I love Fenris, but it would be nice to be able to cite his own behavior in the Fade to make him stop and think before acting like mages are just weak-willed abominations waiting to happen.


	5. Clear Intentions & Sometimes a Rope is just a Rope *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and company survive battling Corypheus only to have her little brother question Fenris about his relationship with Hawke. This leads to a conversation between Fenris and Hawke, and more nightmares for Fenris. However, the increased openness between them allows their relationship to begin to move in a more physical direction.
> 
> (Read: Incoming shameless smut!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Fenris' nightmares once again reference his past with Danarius. **TW: implied/referenced past abuse/rape/non-con**

Fenris was grateful that she hadn’t made much of their conversation that night, instead allowing things to settle into their familiar patterns. The weight of knowledge was there between them, but it was not as scary as he was expecting. It was...oddly good to have someone know a little of the truth of his past. It was just as well that things had settled some, because the next week Hawke was subject to a strange attack by Carta dwarves. Investigating led them to the Vimmark Wasteland and a Gray Warden prison. It had been good to see Carver again. The young man was more sure of himself than he had been, and he had greeted Hawke with a hug. Fenris had seen the tears in her eyes, but didn’t remark on them. Instead the four of them had thrown themselves into figuring out why it was the Carta wanted Hawke and Carver’s blood. This had led them to an ancient creature called Corypheus, who Hawke’s father had helped contain down in the prison. It hurt him to know that Malcolm had been forced into it the same way Hawke worried about being compelled to do things. The battle with Corypheus had been an ugly one, and by the time they were finished Hawke was looking gray. She’d healed them so many times in the fight. She stumbled a little and Fenris had caught her and held her against him and she’d smiled gratefully up at him. He saw Carver raise an eyebrow, but the young man didn’t say anything until they had attained their camp on the surface. He’d be returning to the Wardens the next day.  


“So…” Carver said, once Hawke had passed out exhausted. “You and my sister?”  


Fenris glanced at Varric, who put up his hands and shook his head. “I’m not getting involved, Broody.”  


“I...we are very close,” Fenris said and the words sounded lame, even to him. “She is...special to me.”  


“Special, eh?” Carver grunted. “Don’t tell her that. It’ll go straight to her head.” He chuckled a little, but his eyes were serious when they met Fenris’. “She’s been through a lot,” he said. “I know I haven’t always been kind to her, but being in the Wardens...I think I understand more how she feels. She deserves to be happy and I’ve never seen her look at anyone like she looked at you. So don’t fuck it up.”  


“Spoken like a true little brother,” Varric had chuckled. It broke the tension and since they had all been exhausted by the fight, they soon found their bedrolls. Fenris made sure to check on Hawke before he let himself fall asleep, noting that at least her color had returned.  


She cried the next day when it came time to say goodbye to Carver.  


“I’m proud of you, you know,” she said, resting her hands on his shoulders. “For what that’s worth.”  


Carver rested his hand on hers. “Thank you,” he said with a small smile. “Be well, sister. Give mother my love.” His eyes found Fenris’. “Take care of her,” he said before swinging up onto his horse and cantering away.  


Hawke stared over at Fenris as Varric tried to hide his smile. “What was that about?”  


Fenris shook his head. “He asked me if we were involved after you fell asleep.”  


Hawke blushed and glared after Carver’s retreating form, muttering something about meddling little brothers as she mounted her own horse.  


Later, when they made camp for the night and Varric had retreated into his tent with ink and quill to record his account of their adventures with Corypheus, Hawke cornered Fenris. She looked painfully awkward as she stood in the entrance to his tent.  


“You wish to know what I said to Carver,” Fenris said, trying not to smile. The look on her face was just so...cute.  


“Am I that obvious?” she asked, plopping down next to him on his bedroll.  


“To me,” he answered.  


“I shouldn’t pry,” Hawke said, toying with the ragged edge of his blanket. “I just...are we? Involved, I mean.”  


“Are we not?” Fenris asked. His voice sounded shockingly calm, definitely belying how he felt on the inside. The words were so bold. What if they offended her?  


Her lips quirked into a smile. “I think we are,” she said, “I was just hoping it wasn’t just wishful thinking on my part.”  


He leaned in and kissed her hard, bringing one of his hands to the back of her head and pulling her tightly against him. She moaned into the kiss and wrapped her arms around him, allowing him to lie her back on his bedroll. He stretched out on top of her without breaking the kiss, groaning as she wrapped her legs around him. She felt so good beneath him. He let himself luxuriate in the feeling for a moment, trying to commit the sensation to his memory.  


When they finally broke for air, Hawke gave a breathless little laugh. “Maker,” she whispered, caressing his cheek. “That’s a hell of an answer, Fenris.”  


“I would hate to leave you in suspense,” he replied, propping his head on his hand. “But truly, Hawke, there is no one else. I-this feels...very good.”  


She made a noise of agreement as she wiggled a little beneath him and pressed a kiss to his throat, making his curse in Tevene. His cock was hard between them and her lip’s gentle exploration was making it hard to focus on the things he wanted to say to her.  


“Stop that,” he said, smiling. “I am trying to tell you something.”  


She pouted up at him, but in the dim light he could see the mischief in her eyes. “Spoilsport,” she said, though she mercifully desisted her movement.  


“I told Carver that…” he swallowed past the nervous lump in his throat. “I told him you were special to me.” He stroked her cheek with his fingertips. “And it is the truth. I do not know what that means in any long term sense. I am still a hunted man. But...you are...dear to me. And I...wanted you to know that this is more than just physical to me.”  


“Oh Fenris,” she breathed, twining her fingers into his hair and pulling him in for another kiss. This one was long and languid and sweet, and he saw tears in her eyes when he pulled back. “You are to me too, I hope that you know. Special, I mean. I can’t imagine feeling like this with anyone else.” She raised her lips to his again and he obliged, feeling as though his heart was flying.  


“Are you two done?” Came the pained query from Varric’s tent. “Not that this isn’t lovely, I’m thrilled for you crazy kids, but it’s getting a little saccharine for a dwarf with no whisky.”  


Laughing, Hawke extricated herself and bade him goodnight. Fenris lay back with his hands behind his head, a smile on his face. 

_Still you persist, Danarius said, looking down at him from his chair._

_Fenris was on his knees before his old master again, this time with his arms bound tightly behind his back. Around his neck was affixed a heavy collar and chain, which was connected to a bolt on the floor. Let me go, Fenris hissed back.  
_

_The magister gestured and the lyrium in Fenris’ skin flared to life, and for what felt like forever there was nothing in his world but agony.  
_

_She makes you think you can be free of me, Danarius said once Fenris’ screams had subsided to choked whimpers. But she misleads you, my little wolf. Do you not remember what happened to the last people who tried to help you?  
_

_The images came to him as clearly as if they had happened yesterday. The white-painted warriors with their braided hair and proud bearing. The young woman who had healed his wounds. The gentleness of her hands and eyes. The fear in them when Fenris had been ordered to kill them all.  
_

_You killed her, Danarius said. Because I ordered you to do it and in your heart, you are a good, obedient boy. The old man’s face twisted into an ugly smile. What makes you think it will be any different when I find you this time? Only this time...and then Hawke was there again, bound and collared as he was, her dark skin mottled with bruises. One eye was swollen shut and blood dripped from her full lips.  
_

_Fenris…? She whispered. Help…  
_

_And of course he went to her. He had to. But instead of pulling her to him, protecting her with his body, his hand began to glow blue.  
_

_You belong to me, Fenris, Danarius said. You know what you must do.  
_

_Yes, Master, Fenris said though everything inside of him was screaming at him to stop. But it was too late. Hawke whispered his name in a horrible, broken little voice as he reached into her chest and ripped out her heart._

Fenris jerked up out of sleep, gasping. “Hawke!” He was moving out of his bedroll before he even really knew what he was doing. All he knew was that he had to see Hawke. He had to know that she was there. That she was safe. That he hadn’t hurt her. He hurried past the dying embers of the fire and paused outside Hawke’s tent, listening. He could hear her soft snores inside and he felt something within him unclench just a little.  


“Bad dream?”  


Fenris jumped and whirled around to find Varric peering at him from the other edge of camp.  


“Fenedhis, Varric,” he snarled, closing the distance between them. “What are you doing out here?”  


“Couldn’t sleep,” Varric replied, plopping down by the fire. “I’m getting too old for bedrolls in the sand.” His canny eyes were kind as they met Fenris’. “Do you want to talk about it?”  


Fenris hesitated. Though he would proudly call Varric his friend, he wasn’t in the habit of baring his heart to anyone...except Hawke.  


“You don’t have to, of course,” Varric continued. “But if it would help to hash some of it out...neither one of us is sleeping.”  


Fenris took a deep breath. Perhaps it was exhaustion, or the oddly secure feeling of darkness and the embers of a fire, but he found himself telling Varric all about his dream.  


“I can see why that freaked you out,” Varric said when he was done speaking. “Especially after your little...festival of feelings earlier. But there’s something for you to consider.”  


Fenris cocked his head and Varric leaned in closer. 

“If you wanted to hurt Hawke, you would have to go through me and Bianca, and Aveline, of course. Not that I actually think you’d follow that order, but if it came down to it, there’s no way we’d let you.” His tone was light and gentle, but Fenris could see the steel in the dwarf’s expression. “Hawke is the closest thing to family I have left in this world, Fenris. And I’m not going to let some puffed up, mustache-twirling magister hurt her.” His voice had dropped to a growl and oddly enough, the threat made Fenris feel better.  


“Thank you,” he said, earning a surprised eyebrow raise from Varric. “Hawke is lucky to have your friendship,” he said. “As am I.”  


****  


Hawke leaned against Fenris as they sat in the Hanged Man, enjoying the warmth of his shoulder against hers. His hand was wrapped around her thigh and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as his fingertips caressed the inner seam of her trousers. Since they had returned from Vimmark, Fenris had been more and more inclined to touch her in public, something that she was happy to encourage.  


She smiled over at Isabela, who raised an eyebrow and shot her a lascivious grin back. “Another round?” the pirate asked.  


Merrill shook her head, looking worried, but Varric, Fenris, and Hawke all nodded. Isabela pulled out a few sovereigns and rose. “Thanks, Hawke,” she said with a mischievous little smile.  


Hawke chuckled. She’d felt Isabela’s hands in her purse when they had hugged hello earlier in the evening, which she knew was Isabela’s way of asking permission. Otherwise there was no way the dexterous Isabela would have been caught.  


“Thanks, Hawke,” Fenris said, brushing his lips against her ear and making her shiver. She elbowed him gently in the ribs and he let out a little chuff of laughter.  


“You two look so happy,” Merrill said. “I didn’t know that you could smile, Fenris.”  


“Someone alert the chantry,” Varric said wryly, but Hawke heard the good natured warmth in his voice.  


“I am a lucky man,” Fenris said simply.  


“Oh hush,” Hawke said, lacing her fingers through his and squeezing.  


“You will not believe this!” Isabela said, plopping down next to Merrill on the bench and putting a pitcher of one of the more drinkable Hanged Man ales on the table. “Hawke, do you remember that...Poet. The one who called me a heart worm and wanted to invite me to feast upon his tender white flesh?”  


Hawke snorted into her ale. “Vividly.”  


“He invited you to eat him?” Merrill said. “Is that...a common thing among humans?”  


Isabela snorted. “Not literally, Kitten. He wanted to have sex with me.”  


“Lots of people seem to want that,” Merrill observed.  


“Which I ordinarily don’t mind,” Isabela said. “And if he just told me outright, ‘Bela, I would like you to mount me like a stallion and ride me off into the sunset, that would be fine! But he finds the most...alarming metaphors. Tonight he told me that at night, when he thinks of me, he must ‘beat his poor worm into submission until it releases it’s creamy white lifeblood’.”  


“That...is a truly awful image,” Varric said. “And I say that professionally. Someone should put the poor bastard out of his misery.”  


Isabela groaned. “I feel like the more I turn him down, the more determined he gets. Maybe I should just sleep with him and get it out of his system.” She made a face. “He’s just so...ugh.”  


Hawke couldn’t help it, she started to laugh at the extremely put out expression on Isabela’s face.  


Isabela made a face at her. “It’s all very well for you to laugh,” she said. “I’m sure you’d love to hear that from Fenris, and him from you, but it’s different when it’s someone you have no interest in!”  


Hawke felt the blush all over her face and neck, and she felt Fenris’ hand tighten on her thigh. “I don’t think I would like to hear ‘creamy white lifeblood’ from anyone, no matter how handsome I found him.”  


“And I am not inclined to…’beat worms’,” Fenris added, and a quick glance showed her that his ears were bright red, even in the low light of the Hanged Man. “That hardly seems like a fair fight.”  


Across the table, Varric snickered into his tankard and Hawke kicked him under the table. He shook his head, still laughing, and pulled out his cards. “Who’s for a game of Diamondback?”  


The five of them played until Merrill’s head began to nod, and then called it a night. The whole time Fenris had kept his hand on Hawke’s thigh, teasing her with gentle squeezes and the subtle motion of his fingertips.  


Hawke hugged her female friends, chuckling to herself as she felt Isabela’s hand in her purse again. Oddly, this time her purse came away feeling heavier and she wondered what Isabela had given her that she wasn’t inclined to share with anyone. She didn’t feel it moving, so it couldn’t be anything too terrible. Merrill gave her a kiss on the cheek and invited her down for tea later in the week. Then Hawke hugged Varric, who promised to stop by the next day so that they could talk about a business idea that he had.  


She and Fenris left together, as they always did, holding hands as they made their way back to Hightown. She was about to ask him something when he jerked her into a darkened alcove and shoved her against the wall. The impact of the chilly wall took her breath away, but before she could recover, Fenris’ lips were on hers. His hands framed her face as he pressed his body up against her.  


“Don’t tell me that the worm did it for you,” Hawke teased, when they had pulled back panting.  


Fenris let out an inarticulate growl and nipped at her neck. “No,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But the thought of you…” his voice grew quiet and hoarse. “The thought of you touching yourself...that does.”  


Hawke shivered and draped her arms around his neck, stroking its nape with her fingertips. “Fenris,” she whispered. She pressed a kiss to his neck, and then his ear, feeling him shudder with need beneath her lips.  


“Hawke.” His lips were hot when they found hers again and she melted into the kiss, scarcely able to keep on her feet. He awoke a hunger in her that she’d never known before him. Just when she thought that her knees might give out, she felt his strong hands wrap around the back of her thighs. He hoisted her up against the wall, pinning her with his body as he nipped and licked at her neck and collarbone. She moaned, she couldn’t help it, and she heard his answering rumble as he began to rock his hips against her. She could feel how hard he was and she wished that he could feel how she was soaking through her smalls as delicious friction built up between them.  


“Hawke!” he moaned into her neck as she tightened her legs around him. “Festis bei umo canavarum!”  


She cocked her head and gave him an inquiring look.  


He kissed her gently and put her down with great care before leaning in and letting his lips brush against her ear as he whispered: “You will be the death of me.”  


She kissed his throat, then his chin, then finally his lips before smiling up at him. “I hope not,” she said with a little smile.  


He brushed the back of his knuckles down her face, smiling back down at her. “I am sorry if I was too forward,” he said, his expression suddenly worried. “I...I shouldn't have-”  


“You’re fine,” Hawke said. “Though we have both had a little much to drink tonight for me to invite you back with me.”  


His dark brows furrowed with consternation. “Hawke, you know that I would never do anything to hurt you.”  


“It’s not me I’m worried about,” she said quietly. “I’d never forgive myself if you did something you weren’t ready for because we had too much to drink. Which is why you’re going to walk me home and then go back to your big, empty mansion and think about how I felt up against that wall just now.”  


Fenris let out a soft groan that Hawke had to admit was gratifying before taking her hand and doing exactly as she said. They shared a long, languid kiss at her front door, and then Fenris promised to see her for sparring in the morning.  


Hawke hurried up to her room and collapsed on her bed, desperately sliding her fingers between her legs to ease some of the ache that she had been left with. She groaned at how wet she was as she circled her middle finger over her clit, wishing with all her heart that it was Fenris’ calloused fingers instead of hers. She came quickly, arching up off her bed as she groaned his name. She lay panting for a few minutes before she washed her hands and fished through her coinpurse to find what Isabela had given her. Inside was a small, leatherbound book with the title: “The Canticle of Esmerelda”. Hawke frowned. It was unlike Isabela to be passing out religious texts. Inside the front cover was a note from Isabela.  


_This is a lot less dry than Shartan, I hope you both enjoy. ~Isabela_  


Curious, Hawke opened to a random page.  


“Zevriel pressed his lips to the chocolate skin of Esmerelda’s inner thigh, drawn ever upwards by the scent of her desire. His powerful sword longed to be returned to the inviting warmth of its sheath. Above him, Esmerelda squeezed her bountiful bosom, her back arched as she pleaded with her lover to sate himself within her.”  


Hawke groaned as she let the book fall closed and dropped it on the bed next to her. She was already wet and aching for Fenris’ touch and reading one of Isabela’s naughty books wasn’t going to help. She undressed for bed and crawled under the covers, but she’d scarcely blown out the candle before she was lying back with her hand between her legs. She knew that Fenris wasn’t ready to lie with her, but she couldn’t chase the feeling of his cock rubbing against her from her mind. It took a long time for her to fall asleep, but when she did she dreampt of his voice.  


****  


_Her soft little body was so warm against his as he thrust up into her, pinning her against the wall in Lowtown. He gripped her ass tightly to gain better purchase, growling her name into her ear as he felt himself grow close. He was so caught up in the scent of her, in the feeling of her body tight around him that he didn’t notice that they were being watched until it was far too late. Armored hands jerked Fenris away from her and threw him to the ground where he immediately found a sword at his throat. Hawke was screaming his name as they bound her and forced her to her knees beside him, close enough that he could see her thighs tremble with fear. Out of the darkness a glowing sunburst appear and Hawke’s screams turned to sobs as she realized what was going to happen to her. Fenris was powerless to stop them from performing the Rite of Tranquility, and he screamed her name when she let out a final, horrible shriek and then fell silent. Then, she looked up at her assailants and smiled the bland smile of the Tranquil and Fenris was glad to feel the cold of the Templar’s steel as it plunged into his heart._  


Fenris awakened early, driven from his rest and found himself pacing. He tried not to think about the part of the dream where he had clearly been fucking Hawke instead of just grinding against her. That was...exciting, but terrifying as well. He could not remember ever having been with a woman that way. He tried to make his brain focus instead on the fact that in his dream, Hawke had been taken prisoner so easily. The thought of Hawke unable to defend herself...how could he have allowed such a gap in her training? What if she was captured? What if she was captured when no one who loved her was there to protect her? She had to be able to escape on her own. He went to the trunk where he stored odd bits of weaponry and armor and dug around until he found a small dagger that he’d taken off of some thugs who’d attacked them in Darktown. He had been taken by the stylized wolf on the blade and scabbard. He knew it was probably stolen, but it was the perfect size for Hawke to hide on her person. She’d never be a duelist like Isabela, but it would be enough to make sure that she was never unarmed. He sat down near the front door with a whetstone and waited for Hawke to arrive as he sharpened the little blade. When he heard her knock, he slipped it into his belt and picked up the length of rope he’d also pulled out.  


“Come in, Hawke,” he said quietly.  


She burst through the door, and was for a moment haloed by the sun behind her and the sight of her almost took his breath away. She was wearing her usual practice clothing, nothing special, but the heat in her eyes and the smile on her face turned her from a woman into some sort of mythical creature created just to inspire overwhelming feelings in him. She slammed the door and closed the distance between them, stopping just in front of him and looking up at him with wide eyes. “Morning,” she said quietly. Her dark brows furrowed as she looked up at him. “Are you all right?” she asked, bringing her hand up to touch his face. “You look tired. We don’t have to read tonight, if you don’t want to.”  


“I am well,” he said, leaning into her touch. “I had...troubling dreams. But they gave me an idea for today's lesson, if you’ll allow it.” He held up the rope and one of her eyebrows rose almost to her hairline.  


She began to retort, but he put his finger to her full lips, silencing her. “Before you say something Isabela would say...I had a dream that you were tied up by Templars and couldn’t escape. I want to make sure you know how to slip your bonds if need be.”  


Her eyes had gotten very wide as she looked up at him and he felt the warmth of her breath against his finger as it sped up. “Maker,” she said quietly. “You certainly know how to get a woman’s attention first thing in the morning.”  


He grimaced. “I just want you to be safe, Hawke,” he said, taking her hands.  


She gave a determined nod and brushed past him towards the room where they sparred. He had moved the practice dummy to the side and in its usual place was a single wooden chair.  


“I will do your hands in front of your body first,” he said. “Just to get a sense of what you are capable of.”  


“All right,” she said, holding her wrists up to him.  


“Are you sure?” he asked her, once more taking her hands and pressing his lips to them. “We do not have to do this. I just...I can’t bear the idea of missing something and leaving you at risk.”  


She smiled at him and squeezed his hands. “I’m fine, Fenris. I trust you with my life.”  


He kissed her, hoping that it conveyed how much her words meant to him, then pulled back and began to wrap the rope around her wrists. He noticed that she had clenched both hands tightly into fists, but didn’t do anything about it. It was the first time, he wanted to give her every chance that he could. He stood back once she was bound and saw to his relief that there was no fear in her eyes, only determination. “I am going to leave,” he said. “You have until I return to escape.” Then he turned on his heel and quickly strode from the room. He gave her a few minutes and then opened the door, only to find himself staring into an empty room. Cautiously he stepped in and caught Hawke as she attempted to sprint past him. He looked down at her unbound hands with some surprise. “Not bad,” he said, grinning at her. She smiled back up at him and then bit her lower lip, her golden eyes intent on his. “Stop that,” he growled.  


“Stop what?” she asked, stepping a little closer to him.  


He quickly grabbed one of her wrists and wrapped the rope around it, using it to spin her around. He caught her other wrist and bound it as well, pulling her back against him as he tied a knot. “Trying to distract me,” he said, acutely aware of how close her hands were to his groin. He shoved her away from himself, trying to keep his face dispassionate as she stumbled. “I’ll be back,” he said once again and hurried from the room. He gave her the same amount of time and then returned, only to find Hawke sitting on the floor with a deeply disgruntled look on her face. He walked towards her, feeling somewhat guilty. “That one is harder,” he said gently, hoping that she wasn’t feeling too discouraged.  


She gave a sad little nod as he drew closer, but when he leaned down to untie her she kicked out viper-quick and swept his legs out from under him. She was on her feet in an instant and sprinting towards the door, which she slammed behind herself. His shock made it take longer for him to leap up and follow her, but that was long enough for Hawke to have shoved a chair up against the door knob, trapping him in the room. He knew that the other door was locked. He’d locked it himself ahead of this exercise and he was guessing she’d checked it before her little ruse.  


“Well done!” he called to her, clapping his hands. He heard the sound of heavy furniture moving and then the door swung open to reveal a smiling Hawke. He closed the distance between them in three quick strides and shoved her up against the wall, shocking a gasp out of her. He grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head while she struggled, succeeding in looping the rope over one of the lantern holders that remained unlit in his hallway. He ignored her curses and neatly sidestepped as she kicked at him.  


“I underestimated you,” he said, stepping back.  


“Yes,” she panted.  


“Magic?” he asked. She only took the Magebane about half of the mornings now, wanting to practice not relying on her magic immediately, even when she could. This morning was one of the ones she’d not taken it, and he wondered if being bound had triggered a response she hadn’t intended.  


She shook her head and he raised an eyebrow. He stepped a little closer to her, pinning her thighs to the wall with his knees. He curled his lip and spoke in the sneering rasp that Hawke had dubbed “his Templar voice”. “Do not. Lie. To me.”  


She swallowed hard. “Magic, ser?” she asked in a small, breathy voice. “Me?”  


Fenris rolled his eyes. “I know what you are, mage,” he said. “And I have come equipped to deal with you harshly, if you force me.”  


“Please, ser, there’s been some mistake! I’m not a mage!” He had to give her credit, if he didn’t know her, he would have believed her to be genuinely frightened. Her eyes were downcast and her lower lip shook.  


He leaned in close to her ear. “That isn’t what your friend, Varric says,” he whispered.  


The change was instant as her wolf’s eyes found his and her lips curled into a snarl. “He’s done nothing! You had no right-”  


“He harbored a mage,” Fenris said, cutting her off. “By the Knight Commanders orders, that is worthy of being flogged, at the very least. If you come quietly, perhaps he will not hang.”  


Her eyes widened and she went limp. “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t hurt him.”  


Fenris nodded. “I am going to cut you down and bind you, and then you are going to drink magebane.” He searched her face for any fear, but saw none.  


She grimaced, but nodded, and he did as he said before dragging her by the elbow into the practice room and shoving her into the chair. “Arms behind your back,” he said coldly.  


She complied and he could see how her hands shook. Even after months of practice, Magebane still terrified her on a primal level. He had massively scaled back the dosage, but every time he felt awful doing it. She had told him not to many times, citing the fact that no actual Templar would care at all about her comfort. But he still felt like a monster when he saw her hands shake. He bound her wrists together and took out another two lengths of rope to bind her legs to the chair legs.  


“Behave yourself,” he said. “Or it shall be your friend who suffers.” Then he left the room again, curious how she would do. He stayed away longer this time and when he returned, it didn’t look like she had moved. “Good girl,” he said and saw the flare of rebellion in her eyes. “Perhaps he’ll live another day after all.”  


She dropped her chin to her chest, but did not reply. Fenris moved closer to her warily. “I might be able to see that you are spared the Rite,” he said. “If you share with me the location of the other mages with whom you are known to consort.”  


“I don’t know any other mages,” she said dully, her head still down.  


“Fine,” he said with a shrug. “Perhaps you know of an escaped Tevinter slave? Surely the pet of a magister would not care if you were to be made Tranquil. Is he worth losing control of your own mind?”  


Her head jerked up and he almost took a step back at the fury that emanated off of her. “I would die before I told you anything!” she snarled, and then she launched herself at him. They went down hard, and Fenris felt her strong thighs pinning his arms to his sides as she pressed a tiny knife to his throat. “But better you, than me!” They stayed that way for a long few seconds before the tears started to track down her face and her hands began to shake again.  


“Parshaara, Hawke,” he said softly. The Qunlat word had long ago become their way of ending a session that had gotten too intense.  


She dropped the knife as she rose and offered her hand immediately, pulling him to his feet. He kept hold of her hands, looking down and trying to meet her eyes. “Hawke...please look at me.”  
Her shoulders started to shake and she didn’t resist as he folded her into his arms. “Shhhhh,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I have you, Hawke. You’re safe.”  


She jerked back and he saw the rage in her eyes. “I’m not, though!” she said, wiping her eyes and jerking away from him. “I never will be! I will always be a mage. I will always be a liability to the people I love! No matter how much I know, no matter how much I practice with you or Aveline or the Guard or Isabela…” She took a deep breath and finally met and held his eyes. “In that scenario...what could my next move have been, Fenris? Really?” She began to pace. “Say I had killed that first Templar...they never travel alone. They know enough about my friends to threaten them. I escaped because that was part of the exercise, but if I were actually captured...I would have been a ‘good girl’ out of the sheer terror of any of you being targeted.” He wanted to hold her again, but he could see she was still needing to pace, so he busied himself with picking up the little knife she dropped.  


“Where did you get this?” he asked, looking down at the small, arrowhead shaped blade. “And where was it? I didn’t feel anything on your wrists.”  


Hawke paused in her pacing for a half a step, blushing. “It’s from Isabela,” she said. “She calls them ‘Titty Knives’.”  


He managed to keep his composure for the most part, but he could feel the corner of his lip quirking up. “Titty Knives,” he repeated.  


Hawke glanced down at her breasts and shrugged. “The sheath fits between them. If I’m careful I can pull it out with my teeth and drop it down my sleeve. She told me that I had to have other things on me than wrist knives because everyone looks for those.”  


“My gift feels a bit foolish then, all things considered,” Fenris said ruefully.  


“Gift?” Hawke asked, her eyes going wide. Reaching into his belt pouch, Fenris pulled out the little dagger and its sheath. Hawke took them from him with a little gasp of pleasure, pulling the blade out and testing it against her thumb. “Fenris, it’s beautiful!”  


“You are beautiful,” he said, “but I am pleased that you like it.”  


“I love it,” she breathed. “Thank you.” Some of the awful tension had gone out of her shoulders, and Fenris chose that moment to take her hands. “Hawke, look at me.” Her glorious eyes found his and he could see that the fear still lurked there. “I know I speak for the rest of our friends when I say that we would want you to fight,” Fenris said firmly. “We wouldn’t want you to give up to protect us. It would kill me to know that you’d allowed them to take you to protect me.”  


“I would, though,” she said softly. “If it came down to it. I couldn’t…” her shoulders slumped. “The thought of what they’d have to do to make Varric talk…” her eyes filled with tears again. “I’d rather be Tranquil than be responsible for that.”  


He couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled her gently into his arms and rested his chin on top of her head. “It’s not fair!” she sobbed against his chest. “I am just me, Fenris! But they would take me, they would hurt people I love, because of something I had no control over. I just...I just…” she shook her head. “I feel so...trapped.”  


He hugged her, stroking his hands up and down her back. “I understand,” he said quietly. “Truly.” He felt her nod.  


“I know,” she said, her voice muffled by his chest. “I know you do. I’m sorry. I just...sometimes this feels so pointless.” She wiped her eyes and looked up at him. “Not that I don’t appreciate all the time you spend working with me, because I do. I just…”  


He leaned down and kissed her lips softly. “It all feels inevitable,” he said. She shuddered against him, nodding, and he tightened his arms. “But it is not,” he said. “I promise, Hawke. I thought the same once, but meeting you, and Varric, and Aveline...it changed everything.” He tilted her chin up so that he could look into her eyes. “Hawke, no matter what, promise me that you will fight to be free.”  


“I can’t!” she said, her eyes wide and panicked. “Fenris, what if they took you? I-”  


“I would fight to get back to you,” he promised, taking her face in his hands. “As long as I knew you were doing the same.” He felt his lips curl into a bitter smile. “I am no stranger to pain, Hawke. I swear to you, I could take anything they came up with. And I promise, once I slipped my chains, I would find you and together we would go somewhere we could be free.”  


Her glorious eyes were wide and searching his face. “Fenris,” she whispered. “I-I…” she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. “I promise,” she said after what felt like a very long time. “As long as you promise me that even if Danarius showed up you would do the same.”  


It felt as though he had been punched in the gut. The thought of Danarius threatening her filled him with both terror and unmitigated rage. “Hawke-” he rasped. “It is different.”  


“It isn’t,” she said stubbornly. “You are asking me to fight, even though it could get someone I love hurt or killed. I am asking you to do the same. Danarius is just one man, Fenris. Promise me that you wouldn’t just let him take you, even if he had a knife to my throat, promise me that you would fight!”  


“I swear it,” he managed to grit out.  


“You don’t mean it, though,” she said, looking up at him. “You’re just saying it so I’ll leave you alone about it.”  


He kissed her hard, clutching her to him.  


“Stop trying to distract me,” she said with a ghost of her usual humor. “Promise me, Fenris.”  


He kissed her again, several small ones this time on her lips, her cheeks, her nose, and back to her lips. “I promise, Hawke,” he said, and this time he meant it.  


She looked up at him and took his face in her hands, then she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him gently. He held her to him tightly, but he needed more after making declarations that drew them ever closer to a word that he wasn’t sure either one of them was ready to say. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of the sparring room and into his bedroom without really thinking about it, laying her down and covering them both with the green blanket. She looked up at him, her eyes wide as he pulled her flush against him. He kissed her again, groaning into her mouth as she draped her leg over his to scoot just a little bit closer. “I have been thinking about last night,” he said, once they broke the kiss and lay sharing the pillow and looking at each other.  


“Oh?” she said, bringing her hand up to stroke his hair away from his eyes. “Which part?”  


He smiled at her, turning to kiss her fingers. “All of it,” he said quietly. “How good it felt to sit with you in the Hanged Man with our friends. To have them know how I feel about you and be happy for me. For us.”  


“And how do you feel?” she asked with a little smile on her face. “About me, that is.”  


He reached down and squeezed her ass hard, pulling her against him. He kissed her lips, then down along her jaw and to her ear. “You are everything to me, Hawke,” he said because it was as close as he could get to saying the word he knew they weren’t ready for. He kissed her deeply again. “Everything.”  


“Fenris,” she sighed, wrapping her arms tightly around him. She sounded like she was close to tears, but her smile was radiant when he looked down at her.  


He swallowed nervously. “Can I tell you something, Hawke?”  


“Mmmm,” she said, nuzzling his neck. “Anything.”  


He took a deep breath, pulling her close so that he didn’t have to look into her eyes. “I dreamed about kissing you in Lowtown, Hawke...though I will admit we went further in my dream.”  


She made a soft, happy sound. “Is that so?” she said, slowly sliding her hand down his chest and around his waist. “How much further?” she asked.  


“I…I took you against the wall, Hawke. Or I was...and then Templars showed up.”  


“Those bastards,” she breathed, her hand tightening against his back. “Interrupting a perfectly good sex dream.”  


He smiled wryly. “I...confess I’ve not had any other such dreams that I remember, Hawke. But it was a very good dream. You felt almost as good as you do right now.” He kissed her again, gently parting her lips with his tongue as she moaned and tightened her leg around his. He rolled backwards, pulling her on top of him so that he could feel all of her at once. He cupped her ass and she let out a soft little whimper, letting her knees fall on either side of his thighs.  


“Were you…” she bit her lip, flushing a little and he raised an eyebrow.  


“Was I?”  


“Were you hard when you woke up?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.  


He grunted, rocking her hips to capture some of the delicious friction he remembered from the previous night. “And if I was?” he whispered.  


She moaned and pressed her lips to his neck where his pulse was beating increasingly fast. “I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” she murmured into his ear. She squeaked when he squeezed her ass again.  


“You were hard when you woke up?” he teased, his laughter trailing off in a gasp when she nipped his neck. He responded in kind, rolling her onto her back and grinning down at her.  


“I was so wet when I got home,” she whispered, blushing. “The way you held me against the wall, feeling you hard against me, the way you moved...fuck...it drove me crazy.”  


“Did it?” he asked, sliding his hand up and down her side, coming close to the swell of her breast but not daring to touch.  


“It didn’t help that you told me you liked the idea of me touching myself,” she said. “Hearing you say that...It took me awhile to fall asleep.”  


“Were you…?”  


“What the fuck do you think?” she asked tartly, rocking her hips into him. “I needed you. Fuck, I need you. If you could feel how wet I am right now…” she blushed again and he stilled, looking down at her. He wanted desperately to feel how wet she was. To know that he did that to her. She kissed his lips softly. “I didn’t mean that to pressure you,” she said, looking worried. “I just...I am.” She gave a soft little giggle that he found adorable. “I feel like I always am with you.”  


“Good to know,” he murmured against her clavicle as he kissed down her body. He undid the top laces of the loose practice shirt that she wore and she whimpered when his lips touched the skin below her collarbone. His hands shook as he pushed the hem up so that he could drag his lips over her the soft curve of her belly and he felt her curl inwards just slightly. “Hawke?”  


“Mother’s always reminding me that ladies don’t have a gut,” she said, looking away. “Too many beers at the Hanged Man.”  


He kissed her again, more deliberately, this time letting her feel his teeth and tongue. “You’re beautiful,” he said, sliding back up her body so that he could kiss her lips.  


“Hush,” she said softly.  


“Never,” he replied with a smile.  


“You never told me,” she said with a smile. “Did you do anything about it when you woke up?” she asked. “Being hard, I mean.”  


He froze and saw the worry immediately fill her eyes.  


“Oh no,” she said softly. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”  


He sighed. He supposed after the conversation last night he had to know that this would need to be discussed eventually. He rolled to the side so that he could prop his head up and look down at her while he slid his hand over her hip. “Hawke...I…” he felt a rush of embarrassment. “I do not...have not...done that…done what we talked about with Isabela.”  


He saw her eyes widen fractionally before she schooled her face into an impassive one. “All right,” she said softly, taking his hand in hers. “Do you want to talk about it?”  


He shrugged helplessly. “As a slave...my body was not my own, Hawke. It belonged to Danarius...as did my pleasure. Once, very early on...I made the mistake of touching myself and was caught. Danarius gave me to Breaker for several days after that, to make sure I understood that I would only ever know pleasure or release as he willed it.”  


“Oh, love,” Hawke whispered, pulling him against her and wrapping her leg around his hip. “That fucking monster.” She kissed his cheek and nuzzled under his chin. “I didn’t mean to push you. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize-”  


“Why would you?” he asked with another shrug.  


She hugged him tightly, shaking her head. “I’m still sorry,” she said.  


“It’s all right,” he said, kissing her and then pulling back to look at her face. She was looking at him, but there was no pity on her face, only anger.  


“Breaker?”  


“Overseer Livius,” Fenris said bitterly. “He handled the other slaves usually. But as angry as I made Danarius that time...I was left with him. I am grateful to have lost a large portion of those memories,” he said. “What remains is...is not pleasant.” He shivered at the recollection of Livius’ dark, underground quarters where the rock walls and ceiling ensured that no one would hear his charges scream and beg for mercy. Not that anyone would have cared, but it would disrupt the household so.  


“I don’t know what to say,” Hawke said, looking worried.  


“Then say nothing,” Fenris replied. “For there is little point in talking about it. I only wanted to explain why I...did nothing this morning. I certainly wanted to. I just…”  


“It’s ok,” Hawke said, nuzzling under his chin. “I didn’t mean to bring up something so awful.”  


“Nothing is awful between us,” he said quietly. “I...I might like to try, if you were there.”  


She pulled back to look at him so quickly that she almost rolled backwards off the bed. He caught her with a chuckle and pulled her back into him, looking down into her eyes.  


“If I were there?” she asked, her voice a little higher than usual. “You mean...in front of me?”  


“I only ever did it in front of Danarius,” he said miserably. “I...I am afraid that were I to do it alone I would...hear his voice coaxing me, as he liked to.”  


Hawke flinched and tugged him to her more tightly. “I...Fenris, I don’t have the right words.”  


“I’m sorry,” he said immediately as shame washed over him. “I shouldn’t have-”  


This time she pressed her finger to his lips, smiling at him. Her cheeks were redder than usual. “I would be honored, love, truly. It means the world to me that you want to share that with me. Thank you.”  


Fenris relaxed fractionally, his eyes searching hers. “Are you sure, Hawke? I wouldn’t want to put undue pressure on you. I…I do not expect you to...fix the things that Danarius has broken.”  


She took his face in her hands and looked up into his eyes. “Fenris, there is _nothing_ broken about you.”

He felt his throat constricting with emotion and drew her into a long, deep kiss. He didn’t agree with her, but that she felt that way made him feel like the strongest man alive. They lay that way for a long time, luxuriating in the feelings of each others lips and bodies until Hawke glanced out the window and swore.  


“What is it?” Fenris asked, kissing her jaw and down to her neck. 

“Varric,” she replied. “I need to go. I promised I would meet him so we could talk about money stuff.”  


“Must you go?” Fenris whispered, pressing her to him harder.  


She nodded and pulled back slightly, giving him a kiss on the nose. “If I don’t go, he’ll come here.” She rocked her hips against him, pressing herself against where his cock strained at his breeches. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want Varric to see you like this? Who knows the jokes he would make?”  


“Perish the thought,” he said, sighing theatrically. He rose, offering her his hand. She took it and let him pull her into another fierce kiss before he walked her to the door.  


“Reading tonight?” she asked, leaning against the doorjamb. “I have something new for you, if you’re willing to give it a try.”  


He nodded, feeling the flutter of butterflies in his stomach. He had gotten a feel for Shartan. He hoped he wouldn’t shame himself too badly with the book. He thought he caught a playful little smile from Hawke before she gave him a final quick peck on the lips and hurried away towards her home.

__


	6. The Canticle of Esmerelda *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Hawke finally give in somewhat to their desire for each other and explore ways they can be intimate without Fenris doing more than he is comfortable with. They are inspired by their previous conversation with Isabela and take their time being vulnerable with one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Referenced past sexual abuse/non-con**

“Hawke? Hawke?” Varric’s voice snapped her back to reality and Hawke shook her head, trying to clear it.  


“I’m sorry, Varric,” she said. “I am a thousand miles away today.”  


“Yeah, I got that,” the dwarf said, leaning back in his chair. “I know that this isn’t the most exciting stuff, Hawke.”  


“No,” she said. “But it’s important. I want to make sure that I’m making smart choices with the fortune we came back with. This money can do a lot of good, and not just for my family.”  


Varric smiled at her. “If only people knew the heart of gold that lay under all the sarcasm and terrible jokes,” he teased.  


“You can’t tell anyone!” Hawke insisted, grinning back. “I have a reputation as a cold-hearted thug to maintain. It’s the only thing scaring off some of the nobles from asking me to marry them!”  


Varric chuckled and rose, heading towards her sideboard. “Why don’t we call it a day,” he said. “We have been at this for a few hours. Let’s have a drink, just the two of us. It’s been awhile since we have.”  


“I’d like that,” Hawke said, following him and pouring herself a glass of wine. Varric raised an eyebrow and she smiled shyly. “Fenris is coming over later.”  


“For reading,” Varric said with a look that was entirely too knowing for her taste.  


“For reading,” Hawke agreed, leading him to her sitting room and pulling a chair up by the fire for him. She plopped down in her own chair and they shared the well-worn ottoman that sat close enough to the fire to warm their feet.  


"How is all that going?” Varric asked once they were settled.  


“Fenris, you mean?” she asked.  


Varric nodded. “The two of you have been...very cozy since we got back from Vimmark.”  


She shrugged, unable to keep the smile from her face. “Talking -- sorry you had to overhear the whole thing, by the way -- but it changed things between us. They feel...I don’t know. Real now. If that makes sense.”  


“You put a name to things,” Varric said, nodding. “And you know you mean something to each other, rather than just wanting to bump uglies.” He rolled his eyes. “Though from how you look at each other, I’m sure there’s that too.”  


Hawke blushed. “We haven’t, actually,” she said quietly.  


“You’re kidding,” Varric said, leaning forward in his chair. His warm eyes searched hers. “You’re not kidding.”  


She shook her head. “I don’t want him to regret anything,” she explained. “I want him to be sure before we go that far.”  


Varric smiled at her. “You’re good for him, Hawke,” he said gently.  


“I hope so,” she said. “Anyway, enough about my personal life. I don’t want it to end up in one of your books,” she added with mock severity.  


Varric raised his hands and laughed, then the two of them settled in to talk. They discussed his writing, their plans for their wealth, but they ended up discussing their shared worries regarding the situation with the Qunari.  


“It’s going to end bloody,” Varric said with a worried frown. “That they have stayed so long...it’s weird, Hawke.”  


“I haven’t known any Qunari,” she admitted. “But I have to agree that it feels...off. Tensions are only going to get worse the longer they stay, too, if Sister Patrice is any indication.” She sighed. She still felt terrible about Katojen. “If people could just calm the fuck down, things would be so much easier for me. I wouldn’t be having to play diplomat for the Viscount.”  


“You did well,” Varric said, “all things considered. The Arishok likes you.”  


“I’m not sure that’s accurate,” Hawke said with a grimace.  


Varric shrugged. “Well, he hates you less than the rest of us. That’s something, isn’t it? You wouldn’t believe some of the things that I have heard about you two.”  


Hawke choked on her wine, glaring at the dwarf. “What?”  


“Oh yeah,” Varric said a wide smile. “Apparently he wants to take you back to Par Vollen and make you one of his wives.”  


“I should like to see him try,” growled a voice from the doorway.  


Varric tossed back the rest of his whisky and rose, grinning at Fenris. “Broody!”  


Fenris stepped into the room, his arms crossed over his chest, though Hawke could see he was trying not to laugh.  


“I’m just repeating what I hear!” Varric said, holding up his hands. “The tiny human woman, the massive Arishok, it’s the stuff of stories! He called her that Basil thing and people lost their damn minds.”  


“Basalit-an,” Fenris corrected. “‘One who is worthy of respect’.”  


“Exactly!” Varric said. “The mysterious warrior calling her a woman ‘worthy of respect’ in his own tongue...People eat that shit up!” Varric sighed theatrically and shook his head. “But I can see that this particular messenger is about to get shot for sharing his humble news, so I’ll go and leave the two of you to your ‘reading’.”  


Hawke caught her friend in a hug before he left and kissed him on the cheek. “Be safe walking back to the Hanged Man,” she said.  


Varric glanced at the window. “It’s not even dark yet,” he said with a dismissive gesture. “I’ll be fine. Diamondback in a few days?”  


Both Hawke and Fenris nodded and then Varric took his leave, leaving them alone.  


Fenris grabbed her around the waist as soon as the door was closed and pulled her in for a kiss. His tongue teased her lips open as one of his hands slid down over her tailbone, pulling her flush against him. Hawke moaned into the kiss, closing her eyes and threading her hands through his hair. It took him longer than usual to let her go, and when he did his eyes were troubled.  


“What’s wrong?” Hawke asked, leading him to the couch where they usually read and making sure the candelabra on the table was lit.  


“You said you had something new to read,” he admitted. “I...am nervous, I suppose. I had gotten comfortable with Shartan.”  


Hawke grinned at him. “It’s nothing to be nervous about, I promise,” she said. She pulled the book out from behind the pillow where she’d stashed it earlier and handed it to Fenris. Together they sat as they often did, with Hawke leaning against the arm of the couch and Fenris sitting between her legs and leaning back against her. They got comfortable and then Fenris looked at the spine of the book.  


“The Canticle of Esmerelda?” he read. “That sounds like a book for Sebastian, Hawke.”  


“Trust me,” she said. “Open it to the marked page and if you don’t like it after a page we can go back to Shartan. Deal?”  


“Deal,” Fenris said, opening to the page where Hawke had started to read the night before. He took a deep breath and began to read. “Zevriel pressed his lips to the chocolate skin of Esmerelda’s inner thigh, drawn ever upwards by the scent of her desire.” His voice had gotten hoarse towards the end of the sentence and his free hand had tightened on Hawke’s knee.  


“What do you think?” Hawke asked, aware that she was breathing a little bit faster. The sound of Fenris reading those words had not been something she’d taken into account. It drove her crazy. “It was a gift from Isabela.”  


Fenris laughed softly. “I should have guessed,” he said. He glanced back at her. “I...it is certainly a change from Shartan.”  


“We can stop,” Hawke assured him. “I don’t want this to be pressure or anything, I just thought it would make you smile.”  


“You always do,” Fenris said, giving the book a speculative look. “I think I would like to read a bit more, if you’ll permit me.”  


Hawke nodded, not trusting her voice. She didn’t want Fenris to know what he was doing to her, because if he did, he would continue regardless of his own comfort.  


Fenris’ fingers stroked the inside of her knee as he continued. “His powerful sword longed to be returned to the inviting warmth of its sheath. Above him, Esmerelda squeezed her bountiful bosom, her back arched as she pleaded with her lover to sate himself within her. But Zevriel looked up from betwixt her thighs and bade his darling one to have patience. Then, he took her pearl into his mouth and stroked it with his honeyed tongue, drawing her soon to her joyous end.”  


He lowered the book to his lap and leaned his head back against her chest. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked, and she could hear the amusement in his voice.  


She forced herself to swallow. “I...always like listening to you read, Fenris,” she managed to squeak out.  


“Mmm,” Fenris stroked his fingers up from her knee just slightly. “But your breathing does not change when I read Shartan. Nor do you...fidget so.” He turned to look at her and Hawke found herself blushing. He chuckled and put her out of her misery by kissing her lips. “It is flattering, though most of the credit must surely go to our friends Esmerelda and Zevriel.”  


Hawke shook her head, brushing his hair away from his eyes. “Reading smut is all well and good, Fenris, but hearing you read it...Maker’s Breath. Your voice…”  


He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”  


“You’re really going to make me say it?” she asked with mock indignation.  


“I believe I am,” he said with a smile.  


“Your voice drives me crazy,” she said bluntly. “Has since the first time I heard you talk.”  


He blushed to the tip of his ears, but leaned in and kissed her neck. “Is that so? What sort of things do you like to hear me say?”  


Hawke groaned, arching up into him. “Anything...everything.”  


“Be specific,” Fenris said, and it came out just firm enough that it sent a shiver through her. “Please.”  


“I love hearing you say my name,” she admitted.  


“Hawke, or Saoirse?”  


“Both,” she replied. “I love hearing you laugh. I love hearing you curse in Tevene when Varric beats you at Diamondback. I love how quiet and intense you get when you are teaching me something you feel I should know.” She smiled, feeling the warmth of blush still on her cheeks. “I have to admit, hearing you say the word ‘thigh’ was unexpectedly...mmm...good for me.”  


“Really?” Fenris asked, turning on the couch and pulling her legs up past his hips so they could face each other. He leaned in and nipped her ear. “I suppose that ‘the chocolate skin of her inner thigh’ applies to you as well, Hawke. Though I’ve yet to taste it for myself. I can only imagine it is as sweet as the rest of you.”  


Hawke let out a moan as wanton as any woman down at the Rose and kissed him, melting into his body as he wrapped his arms around her. She felt his strong hands on her ass as he pulled her against him tighter. He was hard between her legs and she let out a little whimper as she rubbed against his length. She felt like she was about to combust with her need for him and she nipped him none too gently where his neck and shoulder met. “You aren’t playing fair,” she whispered.  


“Nor do I intend to,” Fenris replied, his full lips curled in a smile. “I would be a fool not to use this advantage.” He kissed her lips, then moved down her neck to her collarbone, lovingly moving the collar of her shirt out of the way to expose more skin. “Should I continue reading?” he asked. “Or should I just tell you what I think about when I am, how did you phrase it the other night, ‘all alone in my big mansion thinking about shoving you against the wall’?”  


She let out something that felt like a sob as she rocked against him, her arms tight around his back. Her body was screaming with need for him and while it was exhilarating, it filled her with terror as well. She didn’t want to take advantage of him. “Fenris-I...don’t want to push you,” she managed to choke out.  


“I believe I am the one pushing right now,” he said gently. “But I can stop, if you aren’t enjoying it.” His jade eyes were worried when they met hers and Hawke knew that if she’d had a third glass of wine she wouldn’t have been able to keep “I love you” from passing through her lips. As it was, she was able to keep from saying it and kiss him instead, stroking his hair as he leaned his forehead against hers.  


“Enjoying isn’t a strong enough word,” she said when she broke the kiss. “I just...I’m going to keep checking in, all right? This...us...you...it’s worth waiting for to me. I don’t need to rush. So please just...promise me that you’ll stop before you do anything you don’t want. Hell, promise me that you’ll stop if you are feeling uncertain.” She felt her eyes prickle with tears and she swiped at them, embarrassed. “Nothing we could do physically would be worth losing you, Fenris.”

****

Fenris wiped the tears that managed to spill over from Hawke’s face, feeling his heart pounding. He could feel her desire in how her thighs clenched and unclenched around his and in the way her hands shook as she pushed the hair from his face. And yet, here she was worrying, always worrying that she was pushing him when what he wanted in that moment was to mirror Zevriel’s actions and devour her. What they shared was the most precious thing in his world and he loved her for it. _He loved her_. Maker, _that_ was something to contemplate. He could feel the words at the tip of his tongue, but he was afraid that if he said them it would change everything. And things were perfect just as they were.  


“You could never lose me,” he swore to her, clasping her face in his hands. “No matter what could ever happen between us, Hawke, I will remain at your side for as long as you will have me.”  


The tears were spilling over quickly now, but he kissed them away, then pressed a kiss to her lips.  


“I’ll be here too,” she said, her golden eyes shining in the firelight. “I hope that you know that, Fenris.”  


“I do,” he said quietly, realizing that he truly did. Their time together did nothing but illustrate to him that he could trust her steadfastness above anyone’s.  


“Sorry for getting weepy,” she said, blushing and wiping her tears away.  


“There is nothing to be sorry for,” he told her, catching her hand and kissing the palm. “Though I do hate to see you in distress. Perhaps I should read to you some more.”  


Hawke let out a playful groan. “That’s not going to make me less distressed,” she said with a smile.  


Fenris leaned back against the other couch arm, pulling her along with him. “Put your back against my chest,” he said. “Let me read to you.”  


Her eyes were so wide and vulnerable that he had to kiss her again. “Are-are you-”  


“Yes,” he said. “I’m sure, Hawke. Please.”  


She scooted back into him, making what he thought was a quiet sound of appreciation when she felt how hard he was against her back. He could feel her hesitation as she leaned her weight on him and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her so that she was resting all her weight on him. It felt good to hold her as she had him so many times.  


“I’m not too heavy, am I?” she asked softly.  


He nipped her neck and then pressed a kiss to the red spot he left. “You feel incredible,” he said honestly. “We are going to have to sit like this more often.” He kissed her temple. “Now close your eyes.” He flipped through the book at random until he spotted something he thought she might enjoy. “Zevriel tightened his calloused hands around Esmerelda’s wrists, holding them fast as his beloved wri-writhed beneath him. He could feel her most secret well damp against his muscular thigh and he longed to plunge into the wetness like an otter leaps into the ocean. But she had not known her pleasure yet and he would know no release until she had. Slowly he kissed down the beloved mountain range of her breasts, tasting the hard peaks until his beloved bade him continue his journey.” Hawke was breathing quickly against him, clenching and unclenching her fists on her thighs. “Are you all right?” he whispered, trying not to sound too smug.  


“No!” she whimpered, her hips rocking restlessly against him. “Fuck, Fenris...this book is so terrible but hearing you read it makes me want.”  


“Want what?” he asked, desperate to hear her response.  


“You,” she all but sobbed. “Those things. A release. FUCK!” She arched her back against him and he couldn’t help but press his lips to the nape of her neck.  


“Well,” he said, hearing his heartbeat in his ears. “What if you…” he cleared his throat. Hawke had gone utterly still against him. “You could...touch yourself,” he somehow managed to say. “If you...if that would...help,” he finished lamely.  


She turned just slightly and looked at him. “You...you want me to touch myself while you watch?”  


He shuddered and knew that she felt it. “I was thinking I would stay here and you would stay there and I would keep reading,” he said quickly, suddenly worried he’d offended her. “I just thought...it might be-”  


“Oh it might be,” Hawke said with a little smile. “You just caught me by surprise, that’s all. I…” she blushed very prettily. “I have never done that in front of anyone,” she admitted. “But I would feel comfortable with you, if you were sure.”  


“I am,” he said. He heard how eager he sounded and it took them both by surprise.  


She leaned back against him and tilted her head to kiss the underside of his chin. “You don’t have to read,” she said quietly. “You could just talk to me.”  


“What-” he swallowed. His throat had gotten very dry. “What would you like me to say?”  


She shrugged. “Anything you want. Anything you’re thinking. Anything you would...like to see.”  


Gently he set the book down on the side table and wrapped his arms around her, stroking his fingertips over her belly. His heart was hammering at his chest. What if he said something stupid? He swallowed and took a deep breath. “Could you unlace your shirt, just a little?”  


She did as he asked with a little smile on her face, pulling the laces until she could widen the collar enough that he could see the tops of her breasts from his position. Her breastband was red like the scarf she wore in her hair at night and he loved how the vibrant color looked against her dark skin. “You truly are lovely,” he whispered, letting his lips brush against the outer shell of her ear. She gratified him with a shiver and he noticed how her fingers had begun to stroke her thighs.  


“How does that feel?” he asked.  


“Not as good as when you do it,” she said. “But nice.” She slid one of her hands up her belly and brushed her fingertips along the top of her breast, arching into her own hand. Her eyes were tightly closed, but there was a smile on her face. “I think about your hands a lot,” she said quietly. “How it would feel to have you touch me like this.” She gave her breast a squeeze and Fenris heard his breath catch.  


“I have thought about that as well,” he admitted.  


“You can, if you want to,” Hawke said.  


“Show me?” he asked, holding his hand out to her.  


Slowly she took his hand and brought it to her left breast, gently closing her fingers over his until he was squeezing the soft fullness of her breast in his hand. He felt his cock twitch and his own hips rocked involuntarily as he felt her nipple harden against his palm. She whispered his name as he squeezed.  


“Is this all right?” he asked hoarsely.  


“Harder,” she replied, “I won’t break. You can squeeze me as hard as you want, most of the month.” She moved his thumb with hers, brushing back and forth over her nipple. “Are you ok? How does it feel?”  


“I knew you would feel good,” he replied, hearing how rough his voice had gotten. “But I never imagined it would be so-” he grunted. “I want to taste you, Hawke. I want to feel your nipple in my mouth while I squeeze your other breast and see what manner of sounds I can get from you.”  


She arched away from him with a whimper, but he caught her and yanked her back against his chest. She’d awakened something in him. Something dark and primal that drove all higher thought from his head as he watched her body move under his hands.  


“Fenris,” she whimpered and he saw that her right hand had moved between her legs where she was stroking the seam of her trousers.  


“It’s all right, Hawke,” he whispered back. “Go ahead. I want to see.”  


“Tell me what you want,” she said quietly.  


He swallowed hard and nuzzled close to her ear. “Touch yourself, Hawke. For me.”  


She lifted her hips and wriggled out of her trousers, letting them drop to the floor. She gave a little sigh of relief as she began to stroke her fingertips over her smallclothes. “Fuck, I’m so wet, Fenris. Do you want to see?” she asked shyly.  


He couldn’t breathe enough to reply, so he nodded.  


She slid her hand down the top of her smalls and let out a long groan, then pulled her hand out and held it up. Her middle and index fingers glistened in the candlelight and when she went to wipe them on her smallclothes he caught her hand and pulled it back to his face. He could smell the scent of her desire and when he slid her fingers into his mouth he groaned at the taste of her. Hawke was rocking against him, her eyes tightly shut.  


He let her fingers slip from his mouth. “Please look at me,” he whispered.  


Her eyes flew open and met his and he leaned down to kiss her. “Still ok?” she breathed when he pulled back. “I...you can touch me, if you want to. If you want to feel what you do to me.”  


He nodded and she guided his hand down into her smalls. He stroked his middle finger down the soft seam between her lips and groaned when it slid between them and into the warm slickness that awaited him. He dropped his head on her shoulder, feeling his balls constrict. “Fuck, Hawke,” he groaned. She whimpered; he rarely said that word. He withdrew his hand so that he could tighten his arms around her, loving the way her body twitched and tensed against him.  


“Fenris,” she gasped as she slid her hand back inside her smalls. He heard the sound of her wetness as she began to stroke herself and immediately her body grew rigid in his arms. Her free hand clutched wildly at his bicep as she made the most delicious little gasps and whimpers. Her head was thrown back against his shoulder and her full lips were parted as her breath came in short pants.  


“I can’t wait to touch you like that,” he whispered, the words coming easily now as he watched her slowly come undone. “I can’t wait until it is my hands, my fingers giving you such pleasure. You look so beautiful, Saoirse. I can’t wait until I am like our friend Zevriel and seeing you from between your ‘chocolate thighs’.”  


She gave a little breathless laugh that quickly turned into a moan as he brought his hand back to her breast. He pulled her shirt slightly to the side so that his thumb was stroking the soft flesh of the top of her breast and he felt her breath hitch. “Fenris I-I’m close,” she gasped. “Fuck-Fenris...please!”  


“Let it go, Hawke,” he whispered to her. “Please let me see you cum. Please let me see what it will look like when I finally-”  


“Make love to me?” she panted, looking up at him with wide eyes.  


“I was going to say ‘fuck you silly’,” he replied, smiling down at her as he made use of one of Isabela’s favorite aphorisms.  


She let out a sound between a gasp and a laugh, nodding her head. “Oh please fuck me silly,” she groaned as her body began to shudder. Suddenly she arched away from him, clasping her free hand against her mouth as she let out a long wail that he was pretty sure ended with his name. She went boneless against him, panting, but he saw with some alarm that there were tears on her cheeks. He wiped them away with consternation.  


“Saoirse?” he asked. “Hawke, are you all right?”  


She shook her head, but she was grinning. “I’m not sure I’m ever going to be able to walk again,” she said, kissing his jaw. “Fuck, Fenris, that was incredible.”  


He caught her lips with his. “Are you sure?”  


She nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever cum like that,” she said quietly, turning just slightly so that she could wrap her arm around his waist and hug him. “Was that...ok for you?”  


He caressed her cheek, trying not to notice the tempting way her breasts looked in her new position. “If it was half as enjoyable for you, no wonder you are limper than an overcooked noodle right now,” he teased gently. “Truly, Hawke. I loved watching you.”  


She blushed and hugged him again. “Well, someone’s definitely not a limp noodle right now.”  


He smiled ruefully. He was so hard it was almost painful. His brain was racing with things that he found himself wanting. It was almost overwhelming, but the feeling of her body against his and her arms around him grounded him. “I want you,” he said simply. “I...am still half expecting to wake up.”  


“Oh love,” she whispered, pulling him in for a kiss. He slid his hand inside her shirt at her waist, loving the warmth of her skin against his palm. He felt her fingertips at the lower hem of his shirt and he moaned when she began to caress his side gently. “I’ve got you,” she said after a few moments of unhurried kissing. “I’m afraid you’re awake. No flying or any of that cool stuff.”  


“This feels like flying,” he said and then felt like an ass.  


“Is that from one of Varric’s books?” she teased him and he growled at her and flipped her over so that his body pinned hers against the couch. “It is!” she giggled! “It’s from the romance serial! I swear there’s a line about flying-” she faded off into giggles as he wrestled to grab her arms and pin them over her head. She arched up into him, draping her legs over the backs of his knees. “I can’t wait to tell Varric that you quoted him.”  


He bit her neck harder than he ever had before, growling against her soft skin as he rocked his hips. “Do you really want to share any of this?” he asked.  


She shook her head, smiling.  


He smiled and released her arms so that he could caress her face. She grinned up at him and rubbed her nose against his. “Thank you,” he said softly. “For trusting me with something so intimate and precious. If...if you are still interested...I-I would like to do the same.”  


She went utterly still beneath him, her eyes wide. “Are you sure?”  


He nodded, though his heart was pounding in his chest.  


“Ok,” she said softly. “But first I need to tell me what I shouldn’t say or do. What things would remind you of...you know.”  


“I do not anticipate that you will have me kneel before you,” he said. He heard the bitterness in his voice and saw it register with her when she flinched, just slightly. He took a deep breath to steady himself. “Please do not tell me to ‘perform’. Please do not tell me that I...belong to you.” He could feel his hands starting to shake as ghosts of Danarius’ voice came back to him.  


_My little wolf...that’s a good boy._  


He gave a little shake of his head and felt Hawke’s hand on his cheek. “We don’t have to do this,” she said gently, her thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “We have all the time in the world.”  


“I…should like to try,” Fenris said, not sure that the words captured the need that he felt. He was nervous, but he wanted her, wanted to share some of the vulnerability that she had shared with him. “I...could we sit like we do when we’re reading?” _I feel safe there_. He knew from how Hawke looked at him that she knew why he’d asked, but she didn’t do anything but nod and scoot towards the arm of the couch. She blew out all but one of the candles so that they were only illuminated by that and the firelight. It felt warm and intimate and safe. When she was settled, he leaned back against her and she tugged the blanket that lay across the back of the couch down to cover them, pulling it up to his neck.  


“Comfy?” she asked, her breath brushing along the little hairs at the back of his neck.  


He leaned his head back on her shoulder with a sigh and nodded.  


“What would you like me to do?” she asked. “What would make you feel relaxed and safe?”  


He knew the answer immediately. “Would you...could you do that that thing you do to my hair while we read?”  


She brought one hand up and began at the nape of his neck, slowly stroking her fingernails up along his scalp. “Like this?” she asked.  


“Mmmmm,” was all he could say. He groped blindly for her other hand and felt her warm fingers twine through his. Her lips pressed to his temple and he nuzzled into her, taking deep breaths. 

“Hawke?” he asked hoarsely after a few blissful minutes.  


“What is it, love?” she asked.  


“Are you sure it would be all right if I...I touched…”  


“As long as it is what you want, then yes,” she said gently. “I would love to share that with you, but not at the expense of your well being or...this.” She tightened her legs around him, giving him a gentle squeeze. “I am just happy that you are here with me.”  


He turned so that he could kiss her again, parting his lips and caressing her tongue with his own. He wanted her to understand what she did to him and how much he needed her, as well as what she had come to mean to him. “Saoirse,” he whispered. “I need you...I need to feel…”  


“Let it go,” she said, her fingers softly caressing his head. “Just relax and do whatever feels right to you. I’m here. You’ve got me. You’re safe.”  


His hand shook as he slid it down his stomach and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself before gently brushing his fingertips over his cock through his trousers. He gasped at the sensation, his heart leaping to his throat. It felt so good, but it wasn’t his to touch, it wasn’t it was his Masters and he-  


“Fenris,” Hawke’s voice pulled him back immediately and he realized that he was clutching her hand.  


“Hawke,” he rasped, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it. “Can you talk? Please? About anything?”  


“Do you want to know something?” she asked, her fingers moving in slow circles through his hair. Her gentle touch drew some of the tension from his shoulders and he tentatively began to run his fingers up and down the length of his cock.  


“Yes,” he breathed, increasing the pressure just slightly.  


“I think I am the happiest I have ever been when we read together,” she said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his head. “I love the way you feel leaning back against me like you are right now. I love how relaxed you have gotten when we read. I love hearing your confidence grow. I’m so proud of you that it fucking aches sometimes.”  


His hand had stilled because her words made his eyes burn with tears that threatened to spill over. He felt so vulnerable and her words were so _kind_. “Thank you,” he managed to rasp. “I had a very good teacher.” He felt her chuckle.  


“I suppose that’s not very sexy,” she said quietly. “But it is true. Let me see...I told you that last night I barely made it to my bed before I had my hand between my legs, right?”  


His breath caught. “Not-not in as many words, no.”  


She kissed his neck, stroking her fingers over the crown of his head. “I was thinking of you, Fenris, of how your hands would feel on my clit, or squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples between your calloused fingers...it would feel so good.”  


He had started touching again, running the flat of his palm up and down. He was so hard it was painful, but it was a good kind of pain. He wanted more. “What-what else do you think about?” he asked her, angling his body a little so that he could look at her. Her lovely face glowed in the firelight and her eyes were half-lidded as she looked down at him.  


“Well, I’ll think about you shoving me against the wall in Lowtown for the rest of my life,” she teased. “The way your cock felt rubbing between my legs…” she moaned quietly into his ear and he reflexively wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked, his back arching at the new sensation.  


_That’s right, pet, you’ve been so good, you have my permission-_  


“No!” he choked out, letting go and fisting his hand against the back cushion of the couch.  


“Fenris?” Hawke sounded so worried.  


Fenris gritted his teeth and brought his hand back to his cock, letting out a groan of frustration. The fear and disgust had taken their toll and he could feel himself growing soft. “Fasta vass! Can I have nothing of my own? I am not a slave!” He knew that there were angry tears in his eyes now and he sat up away from Hawke, covering his face with both hands. “I’m sorry,” he said after a few moments of awful silence.  


“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Hawke said softly. “Can I-can I touch you? Your shoulder, I mean, or your arm...I just want to hug you,” she finished, sounding sad.  


He turned on the couch, unable to meet her eyes. He leaned against her instead, burying his face in her neck and sliding his arms around her waist. Her fingers were gentle on his back as she stroked up and down.  


“I’ve got you,” she whispered. “I won’t let anyone hurt you again.” She brushed his hair away from his face and looked down and he knew she was trying to meet his eyes. “What would help?”  


“I don’t know,” he said miserably.  


“We don’t have to keep going,” she said, her face earnest. “We really don’t.”  


“I want to,” he said stubbornly. “I just want...this. Please...can we try again?”  


“Are you sure?” she asked.  


He nodded and pressed a kiss to the bit of skin he could see through the laces of her shirt. “Perhaps you could talk to me about ‘Titty Knives’ some more,” he half-heartedly teased. Surely she would lose patience with his nonsense shortly and move on to a man who could give her more than tiny, pathetic attempts at intimacy.  


“What if I showed you?” she asked, a little mischief in her eyes.  


He felt his breath begin to come faster as his cock gave a little twitch. “Please,” he whispered. She motioned for him to sit forward and as he watched, she slid her shirt off and tossed it on the back of the couch. Her breasts strained against the scarlet breastband and he could see the tempting peaks of her nipples beneath the fabric. She took her fingertips and stroked along the tops of her breasts.  


“You could try to find it,” she teased gently. “If you want to.”  


He wasted no time accepting her invitation, sliding his fingers between her breasts and groaning as their soft, warm weight wrapped around him.  


“Imagine how that would feel around your cock,” Hawke said as mildly as if she’d been talking about the weather.  


Fenris felt his cock stiffen at her words and she grinned at him. He smiled back and pressed his lips to her neck, trailing his tongue down over the tops of her breasts as he took himself in hand again. He felt the evil thoughts try to surface, but Hawke whispered his name again.  


“Just look at me,” she said quietly. “Listen to my voice. Know that you are in a place where you are protected and desperately, fanatically wanted. I can’t wait to experience everything with you, Fenris.” Her golden eyes held his this time and her words made him feel bold enough to unlace his trousers and slide them down past his hips. His smallclothes were wet when he touched them and he heard the broken little whimper he let out as soon as he touched his cock. His heart was pounding in his ears, but her eyes held his and kept him rooted in that moment with her.  


“Does it feel good?” she asked quietly, her fingertips stroking his head, his neck, his shoulders, his arms, any bit of skin that she could reach.  


“Yes,” he choked out, rocking his body into his own touch. “I think...I think about your hands too, Hawke…how soft they are...how they are always warm…” his voice broke as the thoughts tried to push their way in again.  


She slid one of her hands down over his chest and slid it under the bottom hem of his shirt and he shivered at her touch, aching for more.  


_You need Master’s touch, don’t you, my little wolf? Say it!_  


“Hawke!” Fenris choked out as he began to grow soft again. “Please-”  


“What do you need?” she said softly. “We can-”  


“No!” Fenris shook his head, his breath coming hard and fast in a mixture of fear, desire, and rage. “I need you, I need this, I just...I need you to help.” He felt her breath catch, but she nodded and let him take her hand. He slid it down his belly so that her fingers joined his brushing over his cock through his smallclothes. He groaned and rocked his hips, desperately seeking her touch. It felt so different from anything else he had ever known. She was gentle, loving in the way she touched him. It didn’t make him feel small or less or used. It just felt good.  


“You feel so good,” she said quietly into his ear. “You’re so big, Fenris...I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”  


He arched at her words, clenching his hand tightly around himself. But it wasn’t enough. Desperately he slid his hand inside his smalls, letting out something between a moan and a sob when his palm brushed over his wet, sensitive head. “Hawke...I want-” he swallowed with a gasp. “I want you to feel-to feel how you make me....please-”  


Her fingertips joined his and she moaned when she felt how wet he was. “Oh Fenris,” she whispered, stroking the seam where his cock and the head met and he thought for a moment that he had actually died and that this was his reward for a lifetime of sorrow and pain. Desperation making him bold, he wrapped his hand around hers and took his cock in their hands, stroking up and down and quietly begging her not to leave him to do it alone until the fear had left him. His heart was beating so fast it felt like he couldn’t breathe, but soon the terrible voice was gone and all that was left was her dear voice in his ear telling him that he was safe.  


He could feel his body drawing taut as a bowstring, and he knew from her gentle caresses and soft words that she knew it too.  


“Let go, love,” she whispered to him. “You felt how wet I get for you, just imagine sliding all the way inside me and filling me-”  


“Hawke-” he knew the words she was going to say, but it was too close, too close to other voices that he didn’t want to hear. She seemed to understand and changed tack immediately.  


“Imagine holding me up against the wall in Lowtown late at night when no one is around, this time actually ‘fucking me silly’ up against the wall. Having to put your hand over my mouth so that I don’t scream and let every cutpurse in Lowtown know we’re there.”  


He was stroking hard and fast now, only partially registering the things she was saying to him. The images she conjured were so good, and he wanted all of them all at once. “Hawke I-I’m going to...Hawke!”  


“I’ve got you,” she said immediately. “You are safe and wanted and needed and one of these days when you cum, it’s going to be in my mouth so that I can taste you and you can watch.”  


That sent him over the edge and he began to buck wildly against her, sobbing her name over and over as weeks and weeks of want poured from him in what felt like an unending stream. When he collapsed sated against her he realized, with some chagrin, that he’d managed to send streaks of cum onto her belly. She collected it with a finger and popped it into her mouth with a grin and he growled and yanked her to him for a kiss. Then he wrapped his arms around her and for the next several minutes they simply held each other. Her hands trailed up and down his back in a gentle rhythm that made him want to fall asleep. He broke the silence before he could doze off.  


“Hawke that was…” he shook his head. He knew he didn’t have any words. “Thank you.” He grabbed the blanket and put it down in front of the fire, lying down and motioning for her to join him. After that, he needed to feel her pressed completely against him. He folded the blanket over them both and kissed her curls.  


“Are you ok?” she asked, bringing her hand up to caress his cheek.  


“I am,” he said, after a moment. “I think it will take me some time to find the nerve to try it again. But...I am well. That was...it felt....” he shook his head. “Fasta vass, woman, you have robbed me of my words!”  


“Among other things,” she teased, kissing his lips.  


“Mmmmmmm, that was freely given,” he replied, giving her ass a squeeze. “I am sorry it took so long.”  


She shook her head, draping her leg over his hip and scooting closer. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she said gently. “Thank you for trusting me.”  


“There is no one I trust more,” he said simply. He tightened his arms around her and soon the gentle crackling of the fire lulled them both into a deep sleep. It was the first dreamless night of sleep that he had in a long time, and he would later look back on that night with deep fondness, considering what happened later that week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well friends, this is the last relatively light chapter before Hadriana. Next chapter is a lot of angst, then a lot of smut. And then a whole lot of angst. I hope that you're enjoying it so far!


	7. The Price of Memory *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadriana's return. Fenris and Hawke's first time. Smut and sadness.
> 
> There's a great deal of porn with feelings in this chapter. Which is fun...until it isn't. Anyone who has romanced Fenris knows why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW: rape/non-con/torture** I tried to imagine the type of memories that would drive Fenris from Hawke's side. Unsurprisingly, they aren't pleasant.

They’d been walking down a familiar path on the Wounded Coast running some errand or another when a man’s voice rang out: “Stop right there! You are in possession of stolen property! Back away from the slave now and you will be spared!”  


Hawke was in motion instantly, her staff in her hand as she interposed her body between Fenris and the voice. She’d barely let the man finished before she was snarling back: “Fenris is a free man!”  


The pompous hunter had told her to back away again and Fenris lost his temper. He had a home now. A life. He had people he cared about. “I am not your slave!” he yelled up at the slaver. The man had ordered his men to attack, but they were no match for Fenris and his friends. The fight was short and ugly as they often were, and Fenris felt oddly disconnected as he threatened the wounded slaver for information on Danarius, but the man had plead ignorance. Then he’d said her name. “Hadriana brought us...she’s at the holding caves...I can show you.” He saw Hawke out of the corner of his eye as he snapped the man’s neck, but to his relief, she didn’t intervene.  


“I was a fool to think I was free,” he snarled. “They’ll never let me be!” he wanted to hit something, and then there was Hawke, her voice gentle and reasonable.  


“Is this someone you know?” she asked.  


“My old master’s apprentice,” he said bitterly. “I remember her well. A sniveling social climber that would sell her own children if she thought it would please Danarius. If she’s here, it’s at his bidding. I knew he wouldn’t let this go!”  


“Looks like we have some hunting to do,” Hawke said, determination in her eyes.  


“The holding caves held slaves in the old times, but apparently they are no longer abandoned. We must go quickly, before Hadriana has a chance to prepare...or flee.”  


They hurried to the holding caves, where the stench that hit them like a wall raised the hairs on his neck and set his teeth on edge. Memories clamored for his attention as he tried to breathe through his mouth. The fear, the anguish, the shame...it was all _right there_. He was so tense and anxious that he barely remembered the fights inside, but he was brought up short when they found the terrified elven woman cowering in one of the larger rooms. Hawke was kind and gentle to the girl, as she always was, and she listened as the girl poured out her sad story. Fenris flinched upon the realization that her father had died because Hadriana feared his coming. Hawke let the girl finish, and Fenris saw the contemplative look on her face.  


“If you go to Kirkwall, I can help you,” she said. She gave the girl directions to her estate and the girl ran off, looking relieved.  


“I didn’t realize you were in the market for a slave!” Fenris heard himself snarl after the young woman was out of earshot. How could she so easily go against everything that she knew mattered to him and take up Hadriana’s scraps? He was brought up short by the look that Hawke gave him. There was such abject hurt in her eyes that it almost took his breath away.  


“I gave her a job, Fenris,” Hawke said with more than a little disgust in her voice.  


Of course she had. She had more money than she knew what to do with and he could hardly argue that it wasn’t an elegant solution. Hawke’s people were well looked after. She’d done what she always did and found a way to be more kind and generous than he could ever expect and here he was yelling at her and accusing her of something he knew was out of character. “Ah...well….good. My apologies. Let’s find Hadriana and be done with this place.” He sounded like a jackass and he knew from the look Varric gave him that he’d hear about it later. Hawke had followed him, her presence comforting, even if he didn’t feel especially deserving of it at that moment. He knew from the rigidity in her shoulders that his assumption had wounded her deeply. He knew that she’d never have a slave, mage or not. But he was on edge. Excited. Terrified. And then, there was Hadriana.  


He had long thought that this fight would be equal to fighting Danarius, but with his companions, with his _friends_ it was almost laughably easy. He’d killed Hadriana without a second thought after she’d told him about his sister. He had seen the concern on Hawke’s face, but chose to ignore it.  


“We’re done here.”  


“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly, stepping forward like she wanted to take his hand. But seeing Hadriana brought back everything he’d felt in Danarius’ household. The fear, the uncertainty, the shame, and anger, it all coalesced into a perfect storm of fury directed at the wrong target. He’d attacked, with no respect for what she’d just done for him or what they had been gently establishing. 

“No, I don’t want to talk about it! May she rot, and all the other mages with her.”  


He knew without looking at her how much he’d hurt Hawke, but somehow she’d still tried to take care of him. She rested her hand on his shoulder, a gesture that would have soothed him in the past. At the moment it just infuriated him.  


“Don’t comfort me!” he snarled at her. “You saw what was done here. There’s always going to be some reason, some excuse why mages need to do this. Even if I found my sister, who knows what the magisters have done to her? What has magic touched that it doesn’t spoil?”  


She recoiled, and he could hardly blame her. The hurt was so profound in her eyes that Fenris couldn’t even look at her. He’d told her once that he wouldn’t change her. How could she believe him now?  


He ran. What else could he do? He’d left her in that place of death and taken the long way back to Kirkwall, hoping that the extra exertion would wear him out. But when he got back to his mansion, he found himself pacing. “May she rot...and all the other mages with her! What has magic touched that it doesn’t spoil?” How could he have said that to her? She was a creature of magic as much as a dragon was. And she was not spoiled. She was just Hawke. _His_ Hawke. The woman he trusted and admired above all others. She’d helped him and he’d been an ass. He needed to see her.  


Bodahn had been kind enough to let him in to her manor, asking him to give his mistress a few minutes as she was with the new girl. Hearing voices, Fenris crept over towards the little anteroom and listened.  


“I’m sorry that I don’t have things that are your size,” Hawke was apologizing.  


“These clothes are lovely,” the elf girl’s voice said with breathless sincerity. “Truly, I don’t need-”  


“What is your favorite color?” Hawke interrupted gently.  


“I-...lavender, I suppose,” the girl said, sounding confused. “It looks like a sunrise. It’s so beautiful.”  


“I know a merchant who sells the most lovely lavender fabrics,” Hawke said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “Tomorrow, when the market opens, you and I will go and pick some out for your new wardrobe. I want you to be comfortable.”  


“New-new fabric?” the girl stammered. “But mistress…”  


“And we’ll have to get you some new shoes,” Hawke said firmly. “Copper steps on toes when he gets excited and no matter what I do, his nails are always sharp.”  


“You are too kind,” the girl said. “Truly.”  


He didn’t need to see Hawke to know the gesture she made. “Nonsense,” she said. “You are one of my people, it is my job to see that you are looked after. Now lets see, Bodahn will show you to your quarters, if you are comfortable with that. I try to stay out of the servant’s quarters. You all deserve your privacy as much as anyone. You can pick which of the little rooms you like. Bodahn shares the larger family suite with Sandal, and Mrs. March, the cook, prefers the little one near the ovens. Says it helps with her rheumatism. But there’s at least another three down there to choose from. When we’re at the market tomorrow you can pick out some things to liven the place up. The chest at the foot of the bed should have some fresh linens in it for tonight, though.”  


“I...I get my own room?” the girl asked.  


“Yes,” Hawke said firmly. “Now, I have some correspondence to attend to, but Bodahn will show you to your quarters if that’s ok.”  


“It’s...it’s more than I could have dreamed, Mistress,” the girl said. “I wish Papa had lived to see this. You would have liked him.”  


“I am certain I would have,” Hawke said kindly. The door opened and Hawke was there, gesturing for Bodahn. She caught sight of Fenris and raised an eyebrow, but didn’t address him right away. 

“Bodahn, Orana is going to pick her room if you’d be so kind as to show her where they are and give her a general tour of the place.” She smiled brightly at Orana. “Let me know if you need anything, all right? And you can call me Hawke, everyone else does.”  


Bodahn took the young woman by the elbow and led her away and Fenris could hear his excited voice as he told her how lucky she was to find employment with the good lady.  


If Fenris hadn’t felt like a jackass before, he certainly did now. As the slave of a Tevinter Magister, Orana never would have known luxury like new clothes in her favorite color or her own room. Hawke was doing all she could to make the girl feel safe. Was this the action of an evil, power-hungry monster? No, but it was completely in keeping with the woman he knew who wielded the magic he feared so deeply.  


“Was there something you needed?” Hawke asked once Bodahn’s voice had faded. Her voice was cold, a tone she usually reserved for strangers who had made her angry. She had her arms crossed over her chest and her feet planted like she was ready for him to try and hit her. “You’ll forgive me if I haven’t gotten around to rotting just yet. I had to make sure to go and spoil some things first.”  
Fenris flinched and he caught the briefest flicker of satisfaction in her eyes. He took a step towards her and she held her ground, jerking her chin up angrily. Her golden eyes were shiny with tears that he could see her working to contain.  


“If that is truly what you think,” she gritted out, “then I am not sure what we are doing here, Fenris. I will always be a mage. Unless I get captured by templars and made Tranquil. Would that please you?”  


“No!” He was moving before he realized what he was doing, closing the distance between the two of them before she could react. He reached out to take her in his arms, but she took a step back from him. She looked so lost and it broke his heart. A few tears escaped her careful control and trickled down her face and she wiped them away angrily.  


“I could never want that for you,” he whispered, putting as much feeling into the words as he could. “I told you once that I would never change you, Hawke, and I meant it.” He took a deep breath. “I took my anger out on you,” he said, though it felt a bit ridiculous to be stating something so obvious. He blundered on anyway; it felt important to say the words. “Undeservedly so. I was not myself. I am sorry.” Yet the words sounded stilted even to him.  


He almost hated it when she admitted that she was worried about him. He didn’t deserve that from her, not after how he’d behaved. He kept talking, needing desperately to make her understand how he could have been goaded into saying such awful things. Things he didn’t even mean.  


“I needed to be alone. When I was a slave, Hadriana was a torment. She would ridicule me, deny me my meals, hound my sleep. Because of her status I was powerless to respond and she knew it. The thought of her slipping out of my grasp now...I wanted to let her go, but I couldn’t.”  
Hawke had pressed, in her gentle way, some of the usual warmth back in her eyes. “What do you mean?”  


“This...hate I thought I had gotten away from it, but it dogs me no matter where I go. To feel it again, to know it was they who planted it inside me...it was too much to bear.” It sounded like excuses, even to him, especially after all that they had shared. He wanted to run, to get away from her piercing gaze. “But I didn’t come here to burden you further,” he finished, feeling defeated. He turned towards the door.  


“You don’t need to leave, Fenris,” she said gently, resting her hand on his forearm.  


His lyrium flared to life before he even knew what he was doing and he slammed her into the wall hard enough that he saw the shock in her eyes. Then her lip curled just slightly and she had spun him around, shoving him against the wall and claiming his lips in a passionate kiss. Every moment he’d held back, every time he’d kept from taking her, all of that energy poured out as he grabbed her ass and pulled her into him.  


He dragged his lips down her jaw, kissing and nipping his way down to her neck. He wanted to leave marks, wanted her to know that he wanted her, all of her. “Hawke,” he groaned into her ear.  


“Upstairs,” she panted back, pushing him away gently. “Bodahn. Mother.”  


Fenris let her guide him up to her quarters, crossing to her fireplace while she locked the door. She leaned against it, looking at him with one eyebrow raised. He didn’t leave her waiting, closing the distance between them and shoving her against the door. His lips found hers with an intensity that scared him a little, but any fears he had were lost in the sensation of her melting against him and moaning into his mouth. He parted his lips and gently brushed his tongue along her lips, then touched it to hers tentatively. She responded enthusiastically, welcoming him into her mouth as she rocked her body restlessly against him.  


“Are you sure about this?” she gasped, pulling away just slightly. “I know that today has been hard for you. I don’t want to make it worse.”  


“You could never make me worse,” Fenris whispered hoarsely. “You have only ever made me, made my life better.” He kissed her again, needing to feel her against him. He let his lips wander away from hers after a few moments, pressing kisses to her cheeks, along her jaw, and into the crook of her neck. She moaned and arched her back, whispering his name.  
He pulled back and looked at her and saw that her cheeks were damp with tears. He kissed them softly, bringing his hands up to brush the remaining ones away. “I am truly sorry for what I said,” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers.  


“I know,” she said, “but thank you.” She pressed her lips to his and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him against her tightly. Her fingertips found their way under the bottom hem of his shirt, softly caressing the skin of his lower back. He arched into her touch like a cat and was suddenly overwhelmed by the need to feel her skin against his. He pulled away from her, his eyes searching hers.  


“I need…” he swallowed hard. He knew that this was the point of no return. “I need to feel you, Hawke. All of you.”  
She shivered and the look she gave him took his breath away. “I’m yours,” she said softly and with such sincerity that he felt a lump in his throat. “What would you like me to do?” she asked. “Let’s go at your pace.”  


He hesitated, then took her hand and led her closer to the fire; he loved how the flames played across her dark skin. “May I undress you?” he asked.  


She smiled at him and nodded.  


He reached out with shaking hands and lifted her tunic over her head before he could lose his nerve. Her skin was so beautiful and the sight of her breastband straining under the weight of her breasts almost made his mouth water. He leaned in and kissed her collarbone, brushing his tongue along its length. She whispered his name as he kissed down, dragging his lips over the fullness of her breast. He licked her nipple through the fabric, feeling her gasp. It made him smile and he felt himself growing bolder as he moved down her body. He pulled her trousers off and slid his hands down her strong legs, kissing the front of her thighs. Slowly, he worked his way back up to her smallclothes. He looked up at her and she looked so lovely, her head tilted back just slightly, her full lips parted as she breathed hard. Suddenly he had to kiss her again. He rose and jerked her against him, crushing his lips against hers. He wanted to devour every inch of her, to show her how much she meant to him, how beautiful she was to him, that he truly would never change her.  


His hands found her breastband and he untied it and let it fall away. She whimpered when he slid his hand up her belly and cupped one of her breasts gently. He caressed the hard nipple with his thumb, loving how she arched into his touch. Leaning down, he sucked the other nipple into his mouth, rubbing it with his tongue. She hissed his name and he grinned and let her nipple pop out of his mouth so that he could kiss down her belly. He took a steadying breath and grasped her smallclothes, pulling them down to finally reveal all of her. He couldn’t help but lean in and kiss the triangle of short, neat, hair, but then he found himself hesitating. He’d been operating on pure instinct up until that moment. She seemed to sense his uncertainty.  


“Are you ok?” she panted.  


He rose, feeling a little sheepish. “I...confess I do not know what I am doing.”  


She kissed him sweetly. “Don’t worry,” she said, stroking his cheek. “There’s no rush.”  


While he appreciated the sentiment, certain parts of his anatomy disagreed fervently with her. He reached for the lower hem of his shirt, wanting to feel her skin against his, but she stilled him with one hand.  


“May I?” she whispered.  


He blushed. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might want to. “Of course,” he rasped. Her hands were so gentle as she pulled the simple shirt over his head. Her fingernails trailed lazily over his shoulders, down his arms, and to his hands. She took them both in hers and pulled him in for a kiss. He groaned at the feeling of her naked breasts pressed against his skin. She was so soft, so warm, he’d never needed anything like he needed her touch. Her fingers moved to the waistband of his trousers, and she made an appreciative sound when she pulled them down. He knew that his cock was straining at the fabric of his smallclothes, and he could feel the dampness that gave away how badly he wanted her. She followed the trail he had laid on her body, kissing his collarbone and moving down his chest and belly. She looked up at him when she got to his smallclothes. “Still ok?”  


He didn’t trust his voice, so he nodded and caressed her cheek. 

She smiled at him and gave the slightest shake of her head. “I need you to tell me,” she said gently, trailing her fingertips over his stomach.  


“Better than ok,” he forced himself to rasp. “Please...continue.”  


She chuckled at that and wasted no time pulling down his smallclothes. “Maker, Fenris,” she breathed. The feeling of her breath against his cock made his head spin and he found himself grasping her head and panting.  


“Hawke-” he managed to whisper.  


She pressed a kiss to his hip bone. “Mmmmhm?” she replied, looking up at him.  


“I-you do not have to...do that.”  


“What if I want to?” she whispered, her lips moving slightly closer to center.  


“Maker,” he groaned. He was so hard it hurt. He heard the need in his voice and knew that she heard it to.  


“I won’t, though, if you aren’t comfortable,” she said, leaning back just slightly. “I only wanted to make you feel good.”  


“It is not...demeaning for you?” he asked.  


She looked stricken and rose to her feet in an instant. She caught him in a tight hug. “Fenris, nothing between us could ever be demeaning,” she said softly, stroking his hair. “But if it makes you feel that way, I won’t do it.”  


He kissed her and pulled back a little, shaking his head. “I just...do not want to make you feel any less than you are,” he said.  


“Making you feel good could never make me feel lesser,” she said. “I do it because I-” she flushed and looked away. “Because you’re dear to me,” she finished quietly. She hugged him again, pressing the full length of her body against his. “Tell me what you want,” she whispered. “Even if it’s just to lie naked together.”  


He hugged her back tightly enough that she made a little squeak of protest that turned to a breathless laugh. The sound of her laughter emboldened him and he slid his hands down her back and took her ass in both hands. He gave it a good squeeze and she groaned against him. “Tease!”  


“Could we lie down?” he asked. As much as he wanted other things, he wanted to take a moment and ground himself.  


“Of course,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.  


He let go of her sumptuous rear end and took her hand, leading her over to the massive four-poster bed. She crawled on first, glancing back at him over her shoulder as she gave him a delicious view of...everything. He heard himself make a quiet sound of need as he followed her and lay next to her. He couldn’t help but pull her tight against him, his hand splayed flat against the small of her back. She grinned at him and then nestled under his chin, stroking languid circles on his back.  


“How’s this?” she asked.  


He kissed her temple and then nuzzled her hair, loving the delicate scent. “I could not ask for more,” he said.  


“I mean...you could,” she teased, draping her leg over his hip and pressing her lips to where his pulse beat in his throat. “But you don’t have to.” She let her leg drop and hugged him around the waist. 

“Whatever you need.”  


“I need you,” he said, meaning every word. He kissed her again, hungrily, sliding his hand down to grasp her thigh and pull it back over his hip. She moaned and rocked into him and he could feel her dampness on his leg. It sent a shudder through his whole body to feel that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Gently he caressed her breast, squeezing it and dragging his thumb in slow circles around her nipple.  


“I need you too,” she breathed back as she arched her back, pressing her breast more firmly into his hand. “I have for...a long time.”  


“How long?” he asked, kissing her throat.  


She laughed a little breathlessly. “Since I first heard your voice,” she said.  


He grinned against her soft skin and kissed up to her ear. “Is that so?” he growled quietly.  


She let out a little whimper. “I’m a simple woman,” she said, trailing her fingers down his chest and over his stomach.  


He couldn’t help but snort. “That is patently untrue,” he replied, keeping his lips next to her ear. “But is there anything in particular you would like to hear me say tonight? I could go and get the book Isabela gave us, if you would like. I am sure Esmerelda and Zevriel would have...interesting things for me to say.”  


“You’re terrible!” she giggled, but he noted she didn’t push him away.  


He rumbled a little sound of agreement and continued to nibble and kiss her earlobe. “Well?” he pressed.  


“Hearing that you need me is pretty nice,” she said and he could hear the smile in her voice. “I mean, if you wanted to tell me that you wanted me, or that I looked sexy, or the things you have wanted to do to me, you know, any of those things would be great too.”  


He chuckled and felt her shiver against him. “I see,” he whispered. Before she had a chance to react, he rolled her onto her back, stretching out on top of her and leaning in to kiss her throat and give it a gentle nip. “I have told you before that you’re a beautiful woman, Hawke,” he said, keeping his voice pitched quiet and low. Beneath him she squirmed and he smiled to himself. It felt good to give her pleasure. He felt powerful, confident. “Though I understand that is not quite the same thing.” He rocked his hips just slightly, pressing his cock against her and earning a soft moan. “But you should be able to feel just how desirable you are to me. Your skin, your body, your eyes, the way you laugh, your strength. You make me feel stronger, just by being near me.”  


He pulled back to look at her and he could see that she was blushing. “You’re sweet,” she breathed, stroking one hand through his hair.  


“I am honest,” Fenris replied. It wasn’t like him to wax poetic, but feeling how she shivered and moved beneath him, he was willing to do a little talking. “I do want you, Saoirse,” he said and was rewarded by a soft little gasp from her. He almost never used her first name, but that felt like the right moment. “I have wanted you since the first time you argued with me about mages. The fire in your eyes, the way you cock your hip out when you’re annoyed…” he gave a little growl in her ear and she whimpered. “Then later, every time I have kissed you, or felt your body against mine when we spar, the moments you touch me when we read...I carry them with me all the time. I think about how your lips would feel on the rest of my body, or how it would feel to lie as we are now, with nothing between us.”  


“Fenris,” she murmured before pulling him in for a gentle kiss. “I’m glad it isn’t just me who thinks about those things,” she said.  


“What do you think about?” he asked, propping his head up on his hand and resting his elbow on the pillow.  


“This,” she murmured, smiling up at him. “How it would feel to lie with you and feel your body, which I love, by the way, pressed against me naked. How it would feel to kiss every inch of you. How gentle you are when you hold me, like you’re afraid you might break me, how it would feel to have your strong, gentle hands between my legs.” Her voice got quieter, huskier as she looked up at him. “I think about good you’d taste when I took you into my mouth, how it would feel to hear you moan my name. I think about your strong hands and how they would feel holding my hips while you took me.”  


It was his turn to let out a helpless groan. The picture that she painted made him almost dizzy with lust. He wanted all of that, all of her. “Hawke,” he managed to rasp. “Please...I need…”  


“What is it, love?” she whispered, bringing her hand up to caress his cheek. “Anything.”  


He turned and kissed her palm, his brain and heart fighting with his groin for control over his mouth. He wanted to take her, as she said, but he couldn’t. There was something holding him back. “I need you to...fasta vass, I do not even know how to ask. I...I want to follow your lead, at least to start.”  


She cocked her head. “Fenris,” she said gently, “I...thought with all you have...with your past, that you might be more comfortable letting me follow. I want you to feel safe.”  


“I do,” he said, and he knew that he meant it. “With you...I trust you, Hawke.”  


She took a deep breath, her eyes searching his. “All right,” she agreed after a moment of silence. “On one condition, however.”  


“Name it,” he said.  


“If anything doesn’t feel right, if you get scared, if you want to stop, you will tell me right away.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t bear being another source of misery for you.”  


“I promise,” he said, kissing her again.  


She pressed on his shoulders and rolled him away from her as she sat up and looked down at him. “You are so b-”  


“Please don’t say that word,” Fenris said without even thinking.  


She looked a little startled, but changed course right away without so much as a question. “You are so handsome,” she said, trailing her fingertips down his chest. She gave a little laugh. “Honestly, I can’t imagine how I landed such a looker.”  


He chuckled at her and caught her fingers, bringing them to his lips. “The bait was very tempting, you understand.”  


She leaned over him and kissed his neck, slowly moving inwards towards his lips. Her other hand was at his hip stroking in slow circles that made him rock towards her. “What do you want?” she whispered to him.  


Instead of answering, he gripped her hip and pulled her on top of him. “All of you,” he whispered back.  


She responded by kissing down his neck and to his chest, gently teasing his nipples with her tongue. He stroked her head as she did, loving the way her golden eyes sought his out as she moved down. Her lips were gentle and sweet as they moved down his belly, and he heard himself gasp when she opened her mouth and gave him a sloppy kiss on the hip that ended with just the barest nibble.  


“Still ok?” she asked.  


“Yes,” he whispered back, stroking her cheek.  


“Would it be all right if I took you in my mouth?” she asked. “It’s ok to say ‘no’, but if it is ok, I would like to give you that.”  


He shivered. He had never been on the receiving end of that act and the thought of it was both frightening and exhilarating. “Just go slowly,” he said softly. “I-I trust you, Hawke. I want to feel this, just please...forgive me if I have to stop. I don’t want to disappoint you.”  


“You never could,” she said, reaching out and squeezing his hand. She slithered off his body and nudged his legs apart, sitting cross-legged between them. Slowly she traced her fingers up and down his thighs, sometimes sliding them up over his hips and belly, then back down his thighs again. It felt wonderful, relaxing even though his body was acutely aware of how close she was to his aching, leaking cock. “How’s this?” she asked, flattening out her hands and applying gentle pressure as she moved up his thighs.  


“It feels good,” he said. “I-I am enjoying it.”  


“May I touch you?” she asked.  


“Is that not what you are doing?” he teased her, just to break a little of the tension that had sprung up around them.  


“You know what I mean,” she said, smiling down at him.  


“I do, but I think I would like to hear you say it,” he answered, surprising himself.  


She arched an eyebrow and the corner of her full lips curled up into a smirk. “Listen to you,” she said quietly, slowly dragging her fingertips towards his inner thighs. “Get a girl between your legs and suddenly you’re wanting her to talk dirty.”  


“I think, were positions reversed, you would want to hear me say it,” he pointed out.  


“I’ll say it if you promise to do the same if...if we do that,” she said.  


“You have my word.”  


“Fenris,” she whispered, her eyes finding his and holding them. “May I touch your cock? May I take it in my hands and later, if you’re willing, in my mouth? I want to make you cum harder than you ever have in your life.”  


Her words almost did him in that moment and he felt delicious tremors run all the way through his body. “Fenedhis,” he groaned. “Hawke please-I cannot take any more of your teasing. Please touch me.”  


She smiled at him and slowly reached out and trailed one finger from the tip of his cock down to his balls. Up and down she went, her eyes on his the whole time as he groaned and rocked his hips aching for friction. “Still ok?”  


“Yes!” he managed to choke out. “Please, Hawke...I need more.”  


“Like this?” she asked, pressing her palm to his shaft and sliding it up and down in the same languid pace.  


“More-” he gasped.  


She wrapped her hand around his cock then and slid the other down to cup his balls, gently toying with them in her hand. Slowly she began to work her hand up and down, making him gasp and moan every time she pulled his foreskin up over the head of his cock.  


“How are you doing?” she asked after a few minutes of glorious torture.  


He was panting, he could hear it. “It feels so good,” he groaned. “You are a minx, Hawke. You should have warned me.”  


She leaned down and kissed his chest, making him gasp as her breasts fell to either side of his cock, trapping it in their warmth and weight. She glanced up at him and grinned and he knew she’d done it on purpose to make good on her comment the other night. “Do you want more than this?” she asked. “Or should I keep doing what I’m doing?”  


“I want more and I think you know it,” he growled, unable to help himself. It felt as though he was going to explode and all he could think of was flipping her over and burying himself in her to get some relief.  


“Tell me what you want,” she said, leaning back up and squeezing his cock again, beginning to stoke it faster. He surprised them both by catching her wrist and jerking it away from his cock. He locked eyes with her and felt his lips twist up into a feral grin.  


“I want you to take me in your mouth, Hawke. I want to see my cock between your gorgeous lips. I want to see it disappear down your throat until your eyes water and you gasp for air,” a wave of anxiety hit him when the words were out of his mouth. Where had that come from? What was he thinking speaking to her like she was his whore?  


But when he looked back down at her there was no disapproval in her eyes. She was grinning, in fact. She’d begun to breathe faster and as he watched she rose up on her knees and leaned over him. “As you wish,” she whispered, and then in one long stroke took him into her mouth.  


For a moment it was as though all light and sound disappeared from his world and Fenris heard himself yell out her name as he clutched at her head with desperate hands. She began to stroke him in a steady pace, one of her hands wrapped around the base of his cock while the other massaged his balls. He was swearing, groaning, begging, and he caught the triumphant look in her eyes when she pulled back for a moment. He felt her hand tighten around his cock and groaned as she pulled his foreskin down so that she could gently lick around the tip. He squirmed beneath her, fisting one hand in the bedsheets to keep from clawing at her. It felt like nothing he had ever experienced and it filled every inch of his consciousness. Then her lovely mouth had encircled him again. Her lips and hand stroked in concert now, and he could feel the tightness building in his balls as she pushed him towards the edge. He propped himself up on his elbows, needing to see her, and the sight of her wrapped around him with her glorious ass up in the air and her breasts swaying gently was enough to send him over the edge. With a wild yell he came, his hips bucking wildly as her gentle hands and lips dragged what felt like every last drop from his body. He was left a shaking, panting mess, and when he finally was able to open his eyes he saw her watching him.  


“H-Hawke-”  


She raised an eyebrow and very deliberately swallowed and the sight of it would have been enough to send him over the edge again if he’d had anything left. As it was, his body jerked in response and he found himself grabbing her and tumbling her down into the mattress. He nuzzled into her neck, wrapping his arms so tightly around her that she squeaked. Her hands were soft in his hair and he realized that his cheeks were damp with tears. She noticed as well and gently tilted his chin up so that she could kiss him as she wiped the tears away. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Was that ok?”  


“That was...incredible,” he said hoarsely. “I-thank you, Hawke. I have never felt _so loved, so cherished, so taken care of_ anything like that.” He managed a soft laugh. “Certainly the images of you are something I will take to my grave.” He kissed her shoulder, her neck, and then her lips. “Thank you,” he whispered again.  


__

She kissed the tip of his nose. “Thank you for trusting me enough to want me to do it,” she said.  


__

They lay together like that for some time, her hands softly stroking his hair and his traveling up and down her sides. It wasn’t long before Fenris felt an intense urge to make her feel as she had for him. He cupped her breast, watching her face for her reaction and was rewarded by a quiet gasp and a smile.  


__

“I want to touch you,” he said softly into her ear. “Though I am afraid I will not be so...skilled as you.”  


__

She arched into his hand, grinning. “I am happy for you to practice on me,” she breathed. “As much as you need.”  


__

He kissed her neck and rolled on top of her by way of response, slowly working his way down to her lovely full breasts. There he took his time, sucking first one nipple into his mouth and then the other, then nibbling on the undersides and giving each one a firm squeeze. When she was rocking and twitching beneath him, he slowly moved down her belly, letting her feel tongue and even his teeth, once an exploratory bite had elicited the most delicious groan from her.  


__

He looked up at her and caught her watching him with the most tender look on her face. He smiled up at her and kissed her inner thigh, groaning when she parted her legs for him and he could see how slick she was.  


__

“That’s all for you,” she whispered. “That’s what touching you did to me. I’ve never wanted anyone like this, Fenris.”  


__

“Nor I,” he croaked back as he slid one hand down from her waist. Softly he brushed his fingertips over the triangle of hair, loving how she moved and whimpered. Remembering the deal they had made earlier, he looked up at her. “I want to touch you, Hawke. To taste you.”  


__

“Touch me how?” she whispered back, but in the firelight he could see the sassy smile on her face.  


__

Moving slowly, so she could stop him if she wanted, he slid one finger into her soaking wet folds, groaning aloud at how good it felt. “I want to touch your sweet,” he kissed her thigh, “wet,” another kiss, “cunt.” He said the word in a harsh growl and was rewarded by her back arching off the bed and her legs tightening around him.  


__

“Fuck, Fenris,” she groaned. “Please-I-I need to feel you!”  


__

He kissed her on the edge of her lips, darting his tongue out to taste her wetness. Instantly her hands were in his hair, pulling him gently towards her. It sent a rictus of fear through him, and as gently as he could, he grabbed her hands and pinned them at her sides. “Please-” he whispered raggedly. “Don’t do that.”  


__

“I’m sorry,” she said instantly, propping herself up on her elbows, her face the picture of chagrin. “I wasn’t trying-”  


__

“I know,” he replied, taking a moment to steady his breathing. “I know that you weren’t. Just please...keep them here.”  


__

“I will,” she breathed back. “I’m so sorry. It just feels so good.” she gave a soft little laugh. “Maybe you should tie me up.”  


__

He clenched his eyes shut, visions from his nightmares suddenly filling his head. He knew that she was just teasing, flirting, as they did. But the thought of her bound frightened him.  


__

“Fuck, I’m saying all the wrong things,” she said softly and he knew he hadn’t schooled his expression fast enough. “I...I’m sorry, Fenris. You… you don’t have to do this.”  


__

“But I want to,” he said, and it was true. “I want to taste you, Hawke. I want to make you cum with my face buried between your gorgeous ‘chocolate thighs’.”  


__

She let out a sound between a gasp and a giggle at his reference, but he felt her hands twitch on the bed. She seemed to pause for a moment, then she lifted her hands over her head with her wrists crossed. “Compromise?” she whispered.  


__

He looked up at her and couldn’t deny that seeing her stretched out that way made his already hardening cock twitch. “Compromise,” he agreed. Then, he leaned down and licked her from the bottom of her slit to the top.  


__

She moaned his name, bending her knees and spreading her legs further for him. He delved deeper with his tongue, finding a little nub that made her cry out and buck against his mouth. It was there he focused his attention, loving how much she moved and whimpered for him. Her hips were rocking incessantly and when he paused his attention on the little bundle of nerves and instead slid his tongue inside her she let out a groan that was so deep that it made the hairs on his arms stand up. Quickly he resumed stroking and sucking her with his tongue, while he gently slid first one, then two fingers into her wet heat. She was almost sobbing his name now, and then abruptly the motion of her hips stopped.  


__

“Fuck,” she whispered. “Please-please don’t stop, Fenris. I-I’m going to cum. Please, please, please make me cum! Put your fingers all the way in and hold them still and just do that thing with your tongue please I’m so close!”  


__

He growled in response, feeling how hard his cock had gotten once more. He redoubled his efforts, holding his fingers in place inside her while his tongue ground against her. In another moment she screamed his name and began to thrash, her whole body spasming. He kept licking her until she laughed a little breathlessly and pulled away.  


__

“No-no more,” she panted. “Fuck! Fuck that was amazing,” she whispered. “You’re amazing. Come here and kiss me.”  


__

He wiped his face on the sheets and kissed his way up her body, finding her lips at last and giving her a long, deep kiss as he stretched out on top of her. He looked down at her and she must have seen the question on his face. “Truly,” she said, touching his cheek. “That was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard.”  


__

He felt warm inside. Her words woke a deep pride in him, but a hunger as well. He wanted to make her feel those things again and again. He wanted to ruin her for other men as surely as she’d ruined him for anyone else. He felt, he realized, possessive of her.  


__

“How are you doing?” she asked, reaching for his hair. She caught herself, but he took her hand and placed it on his head.  


__

“It’s fine when we are like this,” he assured her. “And I am well, Hawke. You do not have to keep asking.”  


__

“I do, though,” she said quietly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Because if you thought I was enjoying it, you wouldn’t tell me that you weren’t ok.”  


__

He blinked at her and she raised an eyebrow. “Tell me I’m wrong,” she said simply.  


__

He couldn’t, so he kissed her hard, hoping that it conveyed the depth of what he was feeling. “Thank you,” he whispered.  


__

“Of course,” she replied, stroking his hair. They stayed that way for a few moments before he kissed her near her ear.  


__

“Saoirse,” he murmured and she made a happy sound in response to his use of her name. “I…I want to make love to you.” He cursed himself in his head for how artless the words sounded, though he supposed it was better than telling her that he wanted to fuck her silly again.  


__

She let out a soft gasp, which emboldened him a little. “Is that all?” she asked with a gentle chuckle.  


__

He laughed as well, then nipped her earlobe. “I could say it another way, if you prefer. I know that you have a certain weakness for hearing filth from me.”  


__

“Mmmmm,” she said, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him close to her. “I mean, if you had some filth in mind, I certainly wouldn’t mind hearing it.”  


__

“I would like to fuck you, Hawke,” he growled down into her ear before nipping at her neck. “Is that better?”  


__

The sound she made certainly seemed to indicate that it was, but she withdrew just a little and put her palm to his cheek. “I need you to be sure,” she said, smiling. “Not that I mind hearing your filthy thoughts, but I need you to be sure. Doing this too fast could break us and that would…” she swallowed hard and shook her head. “Only if you are sure.”  


__

“I have never been more certain,” he said, resting his forehead against hers. “I want to share this with you, Hawke.” He smiled a little ruefully. “I do want to fuck you,” he whispered, the warmth in her eyes making him bold. “But truly, I want to make love to you. To show you…” he lost the words for what he meant as she kissed him softly.  


__

“I’m yours,” she said, and the firelight caught the shine in her eyes. “I want you to go at your pace, Fenris. You’re in control, ok? I trust you.”  


__

He nodded, afraid of what he might say if he spoke. It was too soon for those words. Instead he kissed her, pouring every drop of his lust and every piece of his slowly healing heart into it. Then, he slid inside her, not stopping until her body had taken in every last inch of him. They broke away from the kiss, both gasping, and Fenris rested his forehead against hers.  


__

“Maker, Hawke,” he whispered. “You feel…”  


__

“So do you,” she moaned. “Fenris-”  


__

“Hawke,” he said her name like a prayer, before capturing her lips in a fierce kiss. She moaned and began to rock her hips, and the feeling of her tight wetness moving along his length made his head spin. He clutched her to himself so tightly that he would later worry that he’d left bruises, while her gentle hands stroked up and down his back, over his shoulders, and through his hair as she murmured quietly to him. She let him set the pace and he went slowly, wanting to absorb every single sensation of her body beneath him. He released his grip on her just slightly so that he could kiss her breasts and suck first one, then the other nipple into his mouth. She arched into him, moaning, and when he gently tugged one nipple with his teeth she clenched around him so hard that his entire world suddenly went white and soundless. He was gasping her name when he came back to himself, and she put her hands on his cheeks and pulled him in for a deep kiss. He brought one of his hands to her breast, squeezing and stroking just to hear how she gasped and whimpered.  


__

“I hope that it is on par with your imagination,” he teased her gently, nipping at her ear.  


__

She let out a breathless laugh, grinning at him. “Better than I ever dreamed,” she breathed, her eyes shining. “I hope that I am at least close to what you think about.”  


__

He shook his head, bringing both hands up to cradle her face. “Hawke, in a thousand lifetimes I never could have imagined feeling anything this...perfect.” He kissed her again, sliding his hands under her body so that he could hold her tightly against him. He felt the motion of his hips speeding up as his need for her grew and in a way it made him ache. He wanted it to last forever. He wanted to feel her find her release while he was inside her, but he didn’t know how. “I-I do not think I will last,” he heard himself say. He could feel his body tightening, feel his need rushing to the surface. “I’m sorry I have not made you-”  


__

She hushed him with a kiss. “We have all the time in the world,” she said with a brilliant, genuine smile. “It’s ok.” She caught his earlobe in her teeth. “I’d love for you to cum in me, Fenris,” she whispered, rocking her hips a little faster. “It’s ok. Let it go. You’re safe.”  


__

He didn’t stand a chance against the beautiful rhythm of her body or the heat of her words. He groaned deeply and increased his pace, clutching at her as the tension rose in his body. Her warm hands steadied him as the first waves of his orgasm took him off-guard. He found himself thrusting wildly, chanting her name over and over like a dying man calls to his gods. After what felt like a lifetime and scarcely any time at all, he collapsed on top of her, his pulse ringing in his ears.  


__

“Shhhhhh,” she whispered, gently rubbing his back. “I’ve got you, you’re safe here.”  


__

He managed to gasp her name before pressing his lips to hers. She was blurry in his vision and he knew that was because tears had come to his eyes again. “You are perfect,” he whispered, tightening his arms around her as hard as he could. “Thank you.”  


__

“Always,” she said, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. “Now let's get cleaned up and we can get some rest. I’d say we earned it.”  


__

It felt so wonderfully domestic to get ready for bed together, and when he pulled her against him with her head tucked under his chin and one of her legs slung over his he felt a deep sense of peace consume him. He wasn’t sure that he was ever going to be able to stop touching her again after what they had shared. He’d long ago given up on ever having a home, but as he felt her soft breath fall on his chest, he had to wonder if this was what it meant to have one.  


__

****  


__

_The light from the sun warmed his skin and he smiled as he looked up at his mother hanging the washing. Her olive skin was freckled by the sun and she smiled at him and tousled his hair.  
_

__

_“Go play with your sister, Leto,” she said. Then she’d turned back to her work, humming an old betrothal song about dancing.  
_

__

_“I’m going to catch you, Varania!” he said, chasing after the little blonde girl.  
_

__

_The three of them sitting by the hearth while Mother told them stories of the old gods. Of the glory of the elves.  
_

__

_We had magic once, my children, she’d told them.  
_

__

_He’d scoffed with all the knowledge of a child and she’d kissed his brow and sent him to bed.  
_

__

_That night he had dreamed of magic.  
_

__

_The first fumbling kiss with a girl his age, her name escaped him.  
_

__

_The competition. He had wanted a better life for them. Mothers hands had started to shake and she grew winded hanging the washing. She needed to rest. He needed to win and then they would be free.  
_

__

_The rush of victory and then….  
_

__

_Everything was agony. Fire. A blaze of lightening across his skin and then under it horribly under it, digging deeper and deeper and traveling until it suffused every last inch of his body. It was white hot and gritty, like someone had shoved shards of glass under his skin. Everything was agony he was going to die why didn’t they just kill him already? What had he done to deserve such torment? He was going to die. He begged to die. He just wanted it to be over.  
_

__

_My little wolf. The Master’s hands on his neck, tightening over and over as he thrust into him. You belong to me. The sticky wetness. Being denied his own pleasure and left bound with a dripping cock. Danarius’ laughter at the eager way he’d dropped to his knees the next morning, having learned his lesson. His ‘reward’. The shame of feeling his own spend coating his belly and Danarius telling him that he had to dress without cleaning up.  
_

__

_Night after night of touches that he didn’t want and yet craved, for when he was being touched, when he was being taken that meant that his master was pleased with him...most of the time.  
_

__

_Then his escape. The proud fog warriors. The huntress Ayara who had healed his wounds. It had been her hands, so tough from her bow strings, but gentle on his body that had taught him the ways of pleasure for its own sake.  
_

__

_But then Danarius had found them.  
_

__

_Kill them all, the master had said, but leave her for last.  
_

__

_And he had.  
_

__

_Because that was what a good little wolf did.  
_

__

_But it had been too much. The sight of their broken bodies had broken something in him and he’d run. Run to Kirkwall where he’d found her. His Hawke.  
_

__

_I will make you kill her.  
_

__

_The memories swirled around him, filling in every last bit of memory he thought that he had lost. So many of them would have been better staying lost. He didn’t want to remember._

__

Fenris barely made it to the chamberpot in time to get his vomit into it. He knelt on the floor, clutching it, as he struggled to control his breathing. It was fast, too fast, and then the urge to vomit was on him again and he gave into it. All those things...how was it he remembered them all? But even now, some of the edges were starting to gray out and fade. He heard a soft snore from the bed and suddenly the room was too small, too warm, too full of everything he had to lose.  


__

He dressed as quietly as he could with his hands shaking like an old man. He had to end it. He couldn’t be with her, couldn’t ask her to be with him when he was this broken shell of a creature who had brought only misery to those who had been good to him. A flash of red caught his attention and he saw the silken wrap that she wore to protect her curls at night. He grabbed it and pressed it to his face, his throat clenching and burning when it occurred to him that he might never smell her hair again. He wrapped the silk around his wrist and, desperately needing something else to connect him to the woman he was surely going to lose, took the tiny leather shield that had been tooled into a stylized hawk. It had been a gift from Varric when Hawke bought the mansion, an idea for livery that had never happened. 

__

Varric would understand. This night was the only memory he wanted. What if he lost this one too? He had to have something. He was about to creep out of her room when he heard her shift and his heart leapt up to his throat.  


__

“Was it that bad?” she asked with gentle good humor.  


__

His heart ached as he turned to face her. “I’m sorry...it’s not...it was fine.” How clumsy his words sounded. How bare and plain and worthless. “No...that is insufficient. It was better than anything I could have ever dreamed.” He hoped that she knew he meant it.  


__

“You need better dreams,” she teased.  


__

“I began to remember my life before,” he said abruptly. He had to make her understand why he was leaving after what they just shared. “Just flashes...it’s too much. It is too fast. I cannot...do this.”  


__

“Your life before? What do you mean?” she asked, her voice gentle. She was always so gentle with him. He didn’t deserve it.  


__

“I’ve never remembered anything from before the ritual. But there were faces...words. For just a moment, I could remember all of it. And then it slipped away.”  


__

“If it brings your memory back, maybe we need to do it more often.” He knew that she was trying to make him laugh, like she always did. But it only twisted the knife.  


__

He heard how broken he sounded when he replied, “perhaps you don’t realize how upsetting this is. I’ve never remembered anything and to have it all come back in a rush, only to lose it...I can’t...I... _can’t_.”  


__

“We can work through this,” she said, and he knew from the bottom of his heart that she meant it. She had already done so much to care for him, he knew that he could ask for anything and she’d do it. But he couldn’t drag her down into his private hell with him. He had to release her. She deserved a whole man who was able to lie with her and not have it shatter him. Without him, maybe she would find someone who could be what she needed. He could see the realization of what he was saying washing over her and it made him feel like a monster.  


__

“I’m sorry,” he said, and it wasn’t anywhere close to enough. “I feel like such a fool. All I wanted was to be happy.” _You make me so happy, if only you knew..._ “Just for a little while. Forgive me.” He hadn’t been able to look at her, and he’d left her there on the bed they had only just shared.  


__

_Maker, what have I done?_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was incredibly hard to write. Things are going to be pretty dark for the next several chapters, unfortunately. I hope that you have enjoyed it so far and that you will enjoy what comes next.


	8. Heartbreak, Letters, and Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric tries to help Hawke and Fenris immediately following their first night together. Things in the group begin to normalize before tragedy strikes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I said this at the end of the last chapter, but things are going to be dark for awhile. This chapter begins immediately after the last one and goes through All That Remains.

Varric Tethras capped his ink and let the quill fall on his desk, taking a moment to luxuriate in a deep stretch. It was late; he liked writing at night while the world was asleep. It also meant he was less likely to be disturbed. He got his best ideas after the drunks had started to snore downstairs. So it was an understatement to say he was surprised when there was a knock at his door.  


“Who is it?” he called, rising from his chair with a wince. How long had he been writing?  


“Hawke,” she said in a terrible, empty voice.  


Quickly Varric went to let her in and as soon as the door opened he heard himself mutter “oh shit.”  


She looked awful.  


Her eyes were swollen and red and she was wearing a haphazard assortment of clothes that looked like they had come from the back of her wardrobe. There was a haunted look about her that made him reach out and fold her into a tight hug as he shut his door with his foot. As soon as his arms went around her she started to cry, great heaving sobs that seemed like they might knock her off her feet.  


“C’mere,” he said, directing her to the most comfortable spot by the fireplace. He dragged a chair up next to hers so that he could hold her hand. “Whisky?”  


She nodded, sniffling.  


He reached into a drawer and dug out a clean handkerchief, offering it to her before he poured her a generous dram of whisky. “What happened?” he asked, sitting down in the chair across from her and taking her hand.  


Haltingly she told him the whole story and when she was done, the tears had dried on her cheeks and she was staring blankly into the fire.  


“That son of a bitch,” Varric growled.  


She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I-I’ve never seen him like that, Varric. I’ve never seen him so scared. I-I’d have given anything to help but I-” tears started to flow again. “Fuck me, but I think I broke him. I only wanted him to be happy. I-” she began to sob helplessly again. “I thought we were...fuck.” She looked up at him. “Will you check on him? I’m scared he’ll do something stupid.”  


Varric raised an eyebrow. “You sure that’s what you want?”  


“He won’t talk to me,” she said. “But he trusts you. Please? I just don’t want him to run away or get himself into trouble.”  


Varric looked into her eyes and knew in that moment why the broody elf had fallen so hard for Hawke. Contrary to the things he had experienced of mages, she wore her heart on her sleeve when it came to him. She had trusted him completely, which had made his sudden withdrawal all the more painful. But he knew that the elf trusted her too, and if he set aside the anger that seeing his best friend so heartbroken inspired, he knew that it would have taken something truly awful for Fenris to up and leave her.  


“Let me get you to bed, and I’ll go,” Varric promised.  


“A little early for a rebound,” she joked weakly. The tears still flowed down her face, but she at least sounded a little more like his best friend.  


He squeezed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “It’s never too early for a dwarf,” he said. “Especially one so handsome and charming.”  


She leaned against him, but ended up stumbling hard into his shoulder. He knew she must be exhausted.  


“Can I stay here?” she asked, suddenly sounding panicked. “I-I’m not ready to sleep in my bed.”  


“For you, Hawke, anything.” He tucked her into his bed and sat with her, reading her an excerpt from Hard in Hightown until exhaustion took her. Then, he gritted his teeth and made his way up to Hightown.  


He didn’t knock, just let himself into Fenris’ mansion and stood in the entryway listening. He expected to hear sounds from the wine cellar, that’s usually where he found the elf when he was working through something. But he heard the distinct sounds of physical exertion from upstairs. He made his way to the practice room that Fenris had set up and threw the door open. Fenris didn’t look at him, instead continued attacking a practice dummy that looked like it had seen much better days. The elf’s hair was plastered to his forehead and his hands shook with exertion, which worried Varric some. Fenris was a difficult man to tire.  


“Fenris.”  


The elf ignored him.  


Varric sighed and raised Bianca, firing off a warning shot into the dummy’s head.  


Fenris froze. “Have you come to kill me?” he asked in a tone so empty that it felt as though all the air had been sucked from the room. The almost desperate hope in his words set Varric’s teeth on edge. “I would not mind dying at your hand.”  


“Stop being dramatic,” Varric said, lowering his crossbow. “Just trying to get your attention.” It looked as though Fenris was about to start attacking the dummy again. “Though I _will_ shoot you if you lift up that sword again. You look fucking terrible.”  


“It is no worse than I deserve,” Fenris said.  


“I said _stop_ being dramatic,” Varric said. “Now go get some of that terrible stuff you call wine from the cellar and meet me in your room and we are going to talk.”  


For a moment he thought that the elf was going to argue, but after a few seconds hesitation Fenris nodded and walked stiffly out of the room. He didn’t say anything at first when he came back with the wine, pouring for both of them and then plopping down in front of the merry little fire that burned in the hearth. Varric noticed that he was assiduously avoiding looking at the flames, staring instead into his cup.  


“Why are you doing this?” Fenris asked him after a long, awkward silence. “Did Hawke tell you what I...what happened?”  


“She did,” Varric replied. “And I have to admit to being shocked. Never figured you for a love ‘em and leave ‘em sort of man, Broody.”  


Fenris flinched and shook his head. “Please tell me that is not what she thinks,” he whispered, sounding as though he might vomit. “I could not bear it.”  


“She’s thinking a lot of things right now,” Varric said, trying to keep his tone somewhat level. “Do I think that’ll be the one she settles on? No. She knows you better than that.” He sighed and took a sip of wine. “Will you tell me why?”  


Fenris glanced up at him sharply. “I thought Hawke-”  


“She told me that you two finally did something about all the not so subtle looks and touches and that it was the best night of her life.” Varric heard the quiet, heartbroken sound from Fenris, but kept talking. “Then she said when she woke up, she caught you about to flee into the night and that you told her that your memories came back and you couldn’t be with her.”  


“That’s correct,” Fenris said, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his head in his hands. “I panicked.”  


“If it was just a fit of panic, couldn’t you work it out?” Varric asked. “Panic isn’t a lasting thing, Fenris, but I think what the two of you have might be. If you let it.” But the elf was shaking his head.  


“You don’t understand,” he said, his voice muffled by his hands.  


“Then _make_ me understand,” Varric growled. “Because you’re right. I don’t. I don’t understand how you could hurt someone you claim to care about so badly for no fucking reason.” His words were harsh, he knew, and he saw every one fall like blows on Fenris. He tried to calm down, tried to shove the image of Hawke’s tear-streaked face out of his mind. “I would have thought your memories coming back would have been a good thing.”  


“To get them all back, all of a sudden, only to lose them again…” Fenris took a deep breath and looked up at him. “I don’t even know who I am, Varric. That… that is not a man who can be with a woman and give her what she deserves. I have no grounding, no past beyond these markings and everything they signify.” His lips twisted into a bitter sneer. “And that past...the one I do remember, is not one that is worthy of her.”  


“Don’t you think she ought to be the one to make that decision?” Varric asked.  


Fenris closed his eyes, shaking his head. “If this happened tonight, it could happen again. It isn’t fair to draw her close, only to be forced to flee when it becomes too much. The way she looked at me tonight...I know that she would endure it. But that is more than I can ask. I think it would break her, over time. I cannot give her the...intimacy that a woman with a heart like hers needs. She needs to be cherished, trusted, held close in body body and mind. And I-cannot.” His voice had gone hoarse at the end and he took a long drink of wine.  


Varric was about to respond when Fenris looked up at him.  


“Did she tell you about my time in Seheron, with the Fog Warriors?”  


Varric shook his head.  


“They are the natives to Seheron,” Fenris said softly. “A strong, proud people with enormous hearts and ready laughs. When Danarius was forced to leave me behind during a Qunari raid, they took me in. Healed my wounds. I was there for months and it felt...it felt like I had finally found a place where I could...be.” His eyes were far away as he stared ahead. “There was even a woman, Ayara, who I…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I remember her now,” he said softly. “But eventually Danarius came back for his property, bringing with him a mercenary band acting as his guards. They slaughtered the Fog Warriors...and on Danarius’ orders...I helped.”  


“You _helped_ the magister slaughter the people who had taken you in?” Varric could hear how incredulous he sounded. “That doesn’t sound like you.”  


Fenris shrugged a shoulder. “It felt inevitable,” he said softly. “I knew my life with them had been only a beautiful dream. Ayara...Danarius gave the order...but it was I who ripped out her heart.” He looked up at Varric, his eyes wide and frightened like a cornered beast. “That is the memory I have of the man I am,” he said quietly. “Can you truly tell me that such a man is worthy of a woman like Hawke?”  


“You aren’t that man anymore, Fenris,” Varric said.  


Fenris shook his head. “You cannot be sure,” he said. “And neither can I when that is all I know. I turned on people who had been nothing but good to me before...what if I-if…”  


“I told you in Vimmark, I would kill you myself before I’d let you,” Varric said. “But I think, Broody, that I understand at least a little why you did what you did. I don’t agree, mind, but I do understand.”  


“She will find someone else,” Fenris said, though his voice sounded thick at that thought. “She will move on.”  


“She asked me to come check on you,” Varric said. He didn’t know how he knew that was the right thing to say, but he knew it was.  


Fenris looked up at him, his eyes wide. “She what?”  


Varric nodded, not breaking eye contact. “She was worried that you would do something stupid,” he said. He glanced over at the haphazard pile of belongings near the door. “Like run away.”  


“How can I stay?” Fenris asked. He put down his wine and wrapped his hand around the red scarf at his wrist. “She-the way she looked at me. I will never forgive myself.”  


“And so you’ll repay her kindness, repay how you hurt her, by disappearing?” Varric snarled. “She was more worried about you than her own heartbreak tonight, Fenris! How can you abandon a woman like that?”  


“She would be better off!” Fenris snarled back. “Better off with a man, not a frightened beast who chases the shadows in his own mind even as he flees from them and all they might signify.” His anger seemed to deflate as quickly as it came and he wrapped his arms around his knees. “I just wanted to be happy,” he whispered and it sounded so broken that Varric joined the elf on the floor and rested his hand on his shoulder. “Varric, I was so happy. I have never felt more...whole. And now...I’ve lost her.” The normally stoic elf let his chin drop to his chest and in the firelight Varric could see tears tracking down his face. “It is _I_ who spoil what I touch,” he said.  


“I don’t think you’ve lost her, Broody,” Varric said. “She cares about you too much. She might need some time before seeing you isn’t painful. But I don’t think you’ve lost her.”  


The look of hope in Fenris’ eyes was so stark and honest that it made Varric’s heart hurt. He sighed. “Go to bed, Broody. And don’t try to run, because if you do it’ll be Bianca who finds you. I won’t let you hurt her like that a second time.”  


“I’m sorry,” Fenris whispered. “I never meant to. I just…”  


“Make it up to her by being there when she needs you,” Varric said, rising and pointing at the bed. “Go to sleep. Come see me at the Hanged Man in the afternoon so I know you haven’t skipped town.”  


The elf’s shoulders slumped. “All right,” he said softly.  


Varric was too angry to tuck him in, but he did make sure he was settled before blowing out the light and stomping off towards Hawke’s estate. He’d make sure that Orana knew to get the bedroom cleaned up with new linens before Hawke came home. He wasn’t sure if he’d actually convinced Fenris not to go into hiding, but he figured his chances were decent. He and Bianca were very persuasive.  


****  


_What did I tell you, my Little Wolf? Danarius’ voice was a mockery of kindness as he stroked Fenris’ hair.  
_

_Fenris remained silent, allowing the chains at his wrists to bear his weight as he dangled in front of his master. The slap came almost immediately. Answer me!  
_

_That I could never escape you, Fenris said dully. That I belong only to you.  
_

_And look at you now, the magister said. You threw away my rival like the trash that she is.  
_

_Fenris’ head snapped up, though it made it spin with dizziness. Do not call her that!  
_

_She is trash, Danarius said. What else does one call a toy that has been discarded once its usefulness has been outlived? You took what you wanted from her, then threw her away.  
_

_The magister’s eyes narrowed. But that will not save her, Little Wolf._  


The following weeks were miserable for Fenris as they all tried to establish a new rhythm. Everyone knew that something had happened between him and Hawke, though no one was saying anything directly to him about it. Well, almost no one. During the first mission where Hawke had brought him along again (though she rarely met his eyes) Anders had also been there. Fenris gritted his teeth at the sight of the other mage. The man hated him and, he was pretty sure, was in love with Hawke himself.  


“I can’t imagine what Hawke sees in you,” the mage needled him.  


Fenris had closed his eyes and taken a deep breath, conscious of how Hawke’s shoulders tensed. He knew she was listening. “It is done. Leave it be.”  


“Well, good. I always knew she had some sense.”  


Fenris had stopped walking at that point, his hands fisting at his sides. What he wanted to do was strike the other man down, tell him to stop circling around Hawke like she was a bitch in heat, and have done with it. But he knew Hawke would never thank him for that. Instead he schooled his face into what he hoped was an impassive mask and said as calmly as he could. “Do not make light of this. Leaving was the hardest thing I have ever done.” He swallowed hard and turned to Hawke, noting that some of the tension had gone out of her shoulders. “Thank you for asking me to come along again, Hawke.”  


“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, glancing back over her shoulder and giving him a tentative smile. “The more the merrier.”  


The sight of her smiling at him took his breath away a little and he found himself stumbling over his words. “I am just...pleased…to see you. That is all.” He heard Anders laughing and ignored him. 

Next to him, Varric was shaking his head with a rueful smile.  


“Smooth,” the dwarf said. But mercifully that had been the end of it.  


That night back in his hollow mansion Fenris sat before her fire and picked up Shartan’s book. He had been keeping up with his reading, though it hurt terribly to hold her gift to him without feeling her comforting weight behind him. Still, he owed it to her to keep up with his lessons. She had worked so hard to teach him. Once Varric had learned she was teaching him to read, the dwarf had offered to teach him to write. Fenris would have preferred Hawke, but she’d shaken her head laughing about her terrible handwriting. And Fenris had to admit, the dwarf had beautiful handwriting. He found it soothing to sit and practice the letters Varric had taught him, then string them together into sentences he could read, thanks to her. That night he found that he couldn’t settle enough to read, so he took up quill, ink, and parchment and sat back down by the fire.  


_My dearest Hawke,  
I sit here with the book you gave me, and I am struck once again by just how many gifts you have given me in the time we have known each other. There is no way that I could ever repay you, or thank you enough. But I want you to know that I am grateful. I am sorry that I repaid your kindness and care by hurting you as I did. I do not think I will ever be able to convey how sorry. But I intend to try to make it right. I am here, as I ever shall be, because I love you.  
Yours. Truly.  
Fenris_  


He stared at the words on the page. There it was, in black and white, the truth of what he felt. A part of him wanted to throw it into the fire knowing that it could never come to anything. But he knew he had written it for a purpose. The dreams had been coming more and more frequently. If something happened to him, he wanted her to have a record of what had existed between them. He wanted her to know that it was real. So he took the letter down to Varric and paced in front of the dwarf’s fire while he read it.  


“You can’t give this to her,” Varric’s voice was hard and Fenris glanced at him, surprised. “She’s only just starting to find her balance again,” Varric said, closing the distance between them and poking a thick, blunt finger into Fenris’ chest. “If you give her this letter without going back to her, I think it’ll kill her.”  


Fenris held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I was not planning on it, Varric. I swear it. I just...I wanted you to hold on to it for me.”  


Varric’s eyes turned suspicious. “You aren’t planning on running, are you?”  


“I gave you my word that I wouldn’t,” Fenris said, shaking his head. “And I will not. But we face death so often...and I am still a hunted man, Varric. If something were to happen I just...I want her to know. I need her to know that it was real. Even if I never get the chance to tell her myself, I want her to know.”  


Varric’s expression had softened and without another word the dwarf had pulled out a little box from his desk and tucked the letter in with great care. “I’ll take care of it, Broody. But try not to get yourself killed.”  


Fenris chuckled, feeling a weight he hadn’t realized was there leave his chest. “I shall do my best.” Varric had clapped him on the shoulder then and invited him for a game of Diamondback and for the first time in weeks, Fenris had felt almost himself.  


****  


If he lived to be a thousand like the elves of old, Fenris would never forget the way Hawke had looked when they found what remained of her mother in the dark sewer beneath Kirkwall. He’d stood there with Varric and Aveline while she cradled the dying woman’s head through her last breaths, unable to do or say anything that could help. Then Hawke had risen and gently lifted her mother’s body, laying her out on the blood mage’s table. She arranged Leandra’s hands so that they were clasped over her breast, then stepped back with her arm outstretched. A stream of white-hot mage fire had erupted from her palm, turning the table into a funeral pyre. When she let her hand drop there was nothing but a pile of ashes. Hawke had gathered them up into a handkerchief Varric produced from somewhere and carefully knotted it and stuck it in her satchel.  


“I need to tell Gamlen,” she said without looking at any of them. Then she’d strode off, her back rigidly straight.  


“I will go to her,” Fenris had said. “She should not be alone.” He caught a glance between Aveline and Varric, but neither had argued with him.  


When he arrived at the mansion, Bodahn let him in with a sad look on his face. “She’s up in her quarters,” the kindly dwarf had whispered. “Her uncle’s been and gone. She’s given me this letter to post to her brother, but please tell me if I can do anything else.”  


Fenris nodded to him and hurried up the stairs, shoving away the memories of the last time he’d been there. When he opened the door, Hawke was sitting on her bed staring into the fire.  


“I don’t know what to say,” he said, sitting down next to her. “But I am here.”  


“Just say something,” she said softly. “Anything.”  


“They say that death is a journey,” he replied, but the words sounded hollow, even to him. “Does that help?”  


She gave a tiny shake of her head. “That only raises more questions,” she said in the tone she always used when she was trying to make light of something impossible to make light of. “A journey to where?”  


Fenris shrugged and shook his head. “It is just something people say,” he said quietly.  


Next to him Hawke began to cry and Fenris did the only thing he could think of. He reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle tug. She leaned against his shoulder, and he could feel the dampness of her tears through the fabric. He leaned his head on top of hers and together they sat until Hawke cried herself out. She’d gone so quiet that Fenris thought she’d fallen asleep until she spoke.  


“Please don’t go,” she whispered. “The house feels so empty.”  


“I will stay,” Fenris promised. “But you should try to sleep.”  


She nodded wordlessly and let him lead her to her bed. He pulled back the covers and tucked her in, and before he could stop himself he’d reached down to wipe a stray tear from her face. Her lips quivered as she looked up at him. “Thank you,” she said quietly.  


“Anytime, Hawke,” he said, pouring every drop of feeling into it that he could. “Now rest. I will be here when you wake up.”  


She’d given an exhausted nod then and shut her eyes, and it was only seconds before her breathing evened out. Fenris went to the chair at her little writing desk and plopped down in it, feeling helpless. He knew rationally that there was nothing he could do. But he hated to see Hawke in such pain. Still, if he could bring her a modicum of comfort by being there, that is what he would do. He fell asleep eventually, uncomfortable sleeping positions did not phase a former slave as they might ordinary folk, but came awake as soon as he heard her stir. He was at her bedside in an instant, sitting cross-legged on the floor so that she would know as soon as she awoke that he’d kept his promise.  


Sure enough, when her eyes opened she had immediately sat up and looked around, meeting his eyes almost immediately. “You’re here,” she said quietly.  


“I am.”  


“Thank you,” she whispered. She massaged her temples and Fenris ached to do it for her. “I have...there are arrangements that have to be made,” she said. “I would like to inter mother with her parents. She’d like that.”  


“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked her.  


She shook her head, but in that moment Fenris felt things shift between them again. The gulf that had separated them since their night together shrank slightly as she gave him a grateful little smile. “You already have,” she said quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I am a glutton for punishment I wanted to explore the aftermath of Hawke and Fenris' first night together. We don't have a lot of detail about Fenris' time with the Fog Warriors, so the details that I've created are pure speculation on my part. However, I think there's something compelling about the idea that his betrayal of the last people who he grew close to is a big part of why Fenris bolts when he and Hawke sleep together. Other things, like Varric teaching him to write are just my happy little headcanon. We don't get explicit details about if Fenris stays with Hawke the night of Leandra's death, but I think that he would have. Next chapter is the end of Act 2 Demands of the Qun.


	9. Demands of the Qun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The situation with the Qunari finally comes to a head, with grievous consequences for Hawke. In the aftermath of her battle with the Arishok her friends are forced to make difficult choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Graphic Depictions of Violence & Gore **
> 
> I don't know about y'all, but I definitely was caught by the Arishok once and saw what happens. I have trouble believing Hawke just walked that off, so...I decided to write this section to reflect that.

Kirkwall was on fire. The situation with the Qunari had finally come to a head and despite their best efforts, Isabela had fled with the Tome of Koslun and the Arishok had declared war on the city. Fenris had to admit, he was not generally easy to surprise, but Isabela’s involvement had shocked him. He’d seen the hurt on Hawke’s face when she realized that Isabela had gone, but she’d squared her shoulders and stated that once they grabbed Varric they were going to make their way up to the Viscount’s Keep and handle the Arishok once and for all.  
Of course, that had been easier said than done. The Qunari were everywhere and they were throwing everything at the city. Between the members of the Antaam, the Vidathaari, and the Sarebaas, though they had started out with close to thirty health potions, they were down to their last eight by the time the Knight Captain had arrived to help. Meredith and Orsino began to argue as soon as they saw each other, but Hawke had put a stop to it by taking charge. Fenris saw the ugly look Meredith gave her, and filed the information away for later.  


The six of them had made it to the keep, where Orsino had proven that he was a braver mage than Fenris would have expected by distracting the guards posted outside the door. He’d made it possible for them to get inside and fight their way to the throne room.  


“But we have guests,” rang out the Arishok’s voice as Hawke strode up to him. “Shanedan, Hawke. I expected you. Maraas toh ebra-shok. You alone are basalit-an. This is what respect looks like, baas. Some of you will never earn it. So tell me, Hawke. You know that I am denied Par Vollen until the Tome of Koslun is found. How would you see this conflict resolved without it?”  


Behind them there was a commotion as one of the Arishok’s guards flew through the door and in strode Isabela. She stepped onto the guard on her way to them, her full lips twisted into a wry grin that didn’t mask the worry in her eyes. Hawke had been kind, though Fenris could hear the wariness in her voice. “I’d have thought you would be long gone by now.”  


“This is your damned influence, Hawke,” Isabela said accusingly. “I was halfway to Ostwick before I knew I had to turn around. It’s pathetic.” A look passed between the two women that told him there would be further discussion later, if they all survived.  


“The relic is reclaimed. I am free to return to Par Vollen...with the thief.”  


Fenris almost groaned aloud. Terrible choices or no, Isabela was one of Hawke’s friends. There was no way that Hawke would just let the Arishok take her away. He had a feeling that there was about to be more violence.  


“You have your relic. She stays with us,” Hawke growled.  


“I’m sure he’ll take that well,” Varric muttered. “Rivani, you might want to move a few steps this way!”  


“Then you leave me no choice,” the Arishok rumbled. Fenris was about to draw his blade when the Qunari continued. “I challenge you, Hawke. You and I will battle to the death with her as the prize.”  


To Isabela’s credit, she’d piped up immediately while Fenris was still trying to work through the awful knot that had formed in his stomach. “No! If you’re going to duel anyone, duel me!”  


“You are not basalit-an,” the Arishok replied. “You are not worthy.”  


“I accept your challenge,” Hawke answered as Fenris knew that she would.  


“Maravas!” the Arishok exclaimed. “So shall it be.”  


The two of them moved to the open area near the throne room doors and Fenris felt his heart sink even lower. He knew Hawke was a strong woman, he would even have gone so far as to call her a warrior, in her own way. But the Arishok was five times her size and the leader of the Qunari military. It wasn’t that Fenris didn’t have faith in Hawke, but the sight of the Arishok swinging his massive blade drove home how small and mortal Hawke was.  


What followed was almost forty of the longest minutes of Fenris’ life as he, Aveline, Varric, and Isabela watched helplessly. Hawke was no fool and Fenris was pleased to see that all of her training with the guards and himself was helping her to some degree. She knew better than to close with the Arishok, instead casting her Gravatic Ring spell and slowing him so that she could fire off a barrage of other spells. As soon as he geared himself up to attack, she would dart behind a pillar and sprint away. But they had spent the better part of the afternoon and evening fighting their way through the streets of Kirkwall, and Fenris could see that exhaustion was beginning to take hold of her. She was slowing. Every now and then she’d miss her timing and the Arishok would succeed in knocking her to the ground. She’d roll away with a grunt and stumble away, occasionally downing a health potion if he’d hit her really hard, but Fenris knew she was running out. Her lyrium potions were long gone, which made it hard for her to chance healing herself. Healing took away from offensive strategies that she could employ, and she knew that she had to finish the fight as quickly as possible.  


And then she’d miscalculated where the Arishok was charging and with a yell of triumph the Qunari had impaled her on his massive sword and lifted her bodily into the air. Hawke let out a horrible, ragged yell that faded into an awful whimper when he’d thrown her derisively on the ground.  


“Get up,” Fenris heard someone whispering raggedly. “Please, Hawke, get up!” He realized that it was him who was speaking when Aveline reached out and took his hand. This _couldn’t_ be how it ended. He and Varric had cheered aloud when she’s hauled herself to her feet and just managed to lurch behind a pillar before the Arishok, who had been caught off guard by her movement, charged again. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth as she cast the slowing spell again and rained fire down on the Arishok. Then she reached into the pouch at her belt and Fenris saw the look of fear in her eyes before she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.  


“Oh no,” Aveline whispered. “She’s out of potions. She has to finish this, and fast!”  


Hawke threw everything that she had, doing a combination of spells that Fenris knew would do devastating damage at the price of utterly draining her mana. From her color Fenris could tell she’d lost too much blood to wait for her mana to regenerate so she could heal herself and when she’d finished casting she was leaning heavily on her staff, panting.  


But as the flames she called from the sky cleared, to his shock and great pride, Fenris saw the Arishok lying prone on the ground. Hawke had stumbled over and finished him, then lifted her head and glared at the other members of the Antaam. They had inclined their heads to her and walked out without so much as a second glance at their fallen commander. Meredith and Orsino had arrived then.  


“Is it...is it over?” Meredith asked, looking around with shock.  


“It’s over,” Hawke said, lifting her chin with unmistakable pride.  


“The city has been saved!” one of the hostage nobles cheered.  


Meredith sheathed her sword and approached Hawke with an inscrutable look on her face. “Well done. It appears that Kirkwall has a new Champion.” The room had filled with cheers at that, but Fenris barely heard them. He saw Hawke sway just slightly and he got to her side quickly enough to steady her. All of her color was gone and he could feel her shaking. She had her arms wrapped tightly around her middle, but even then Fenris could see the blood beginning to climb up her shirt.  


“The Champion needs to rest!” he’d called out, hoping he didn’t sound as terrified as he felt. He felt Aveline take Hawke’s other arm over her shoulder and the two of them had hastened to get Hawke out of the Keep and back to her mansion.  


“I’ll get Anders!” Isabela said, then sprinted off towards Lowtown.  


Bodahn’s kind face was a mask of pure worry when he opened the door and behind him Orana hovered anxiously.  


“Mistress!” the elf girl breathed. “I shall get hot water and towels and some more blankets and clean clothes!” she scurried away.  


Hawke had been leaning on him and Aveline more and more as they had made their way to the house, but at the sight of the stairs she had moaned and given a tiny, exhausted shake of her head. “I can’t,” she breathed. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and her head lolled dramatically to the side.  


“No!” Fenris said. “Hawke! Stay with us!” He’d scooped her up then and carried her up the stairs to her room, taking great care not to jostle her. He, Varric, and Aveline removed her armor and by then Orana arrived with a steaming basin of water and fluffy white towels.  


“We’re going to have to take off everything on her top half,” Aveline said. “Her clothes are filthy and Anders is going to need to be able to see what he’s doing.”  


“Use these,” Orana said, pulling out a pair of wickedly sharp sewing scissors.  


With great care, Aveline cut off Hawke’s undershirt, and when Fenris saw the full extent of her injuries he felt the room spin.  


The entirety of Hawke’s torso was covered in a painful looking mottling of bruises, as well as several long gashes where the Arishok had caught her with his horns. But the place where she’d been impaled was just a horrible, pulpy mess of blood and ruined flesh. Fenris could see a loop of intestine just inside and next to him he heard Orana give a horrified little gasp.  


“Son of a bitch,” Varric said, his kind eyes wide and worried. He glanced at Aveline and Fenris, and the look in his eyes told them that he didn’t foresee this story having a happy ending.  


“Maker, Hawke,” Aveline whispered. She shook her head and looked at the three of them. “I can do this alone,” she said and Fenris knew that she saw how his hands were shaking. “I’m not giving up on her.”  


“No.” Fenris croaked.  


“No,” Orana agreed, though the girl was visibly green. “I can help.”  


“I’ll get more blankets,” Varric said. “And build up the fire.”  


Aveline nodded to them and together they had washed Hawke’s wounds as best they could. Fenris held a towel to the gaping wound to try and slow some of the blood loss. The whole time he was whispering to her, trying to keep her with him. “That was amazing, Hawke. I need you to be strong for a little longer, please, I’m begging you. Anders is coming and you will be all right. Please…”  


Her voice was so soft he almost missed it. “Hurts…” she wheezed. “So...tired. Mother?”  


“NO!” Fenris growled, grabbing her hand with his free one. “Hawke, no! You have to stay!”  


“Bethany?” Hawke’s voice had gotten quieter. “Father? Can I…rest?”  


The door the room banged open and in ran Anders, looking like he had seen some shit.  


“Is she alive?” he asked, pulling out a bag of potions and leaning his staff against the bed.  


“She’s fading,” Aveline said, and though Fenris couldn’t tear his eyes from Hawke, he knew from her voice that Aveline was crying.  


“Hawke please…” he was still whispering to her. Her hand was so cold. “Please fight. Please don’t go. Not like this. Please-”  


“I need to see her wound, Fenris,” Anders said, his tone surprisingly gentle. Fenris removed the towel and heard the sharp intake of breath from the mage. “Fuck,” Anders whispered. His hands began to glow as he immediately got to work, but Fenris could see the hopeless expression on his face. “This is bad,” the mage said quietly.  


“Can you save her?” Fenris asked and he heard how desperate he sounded.  


Anders met his eyes and Fenris heard himself give a choked little sob. The normally confident healer looked the most uncertain Fenris had ever seen him. “I swear to you that I’ll try,” he said. He glanced between them. “Which of you can help without panicking?”  


“I’ll stay,” Aveline said immediately.  


“Me too,” said Orana.  


“You two go,” Anders said. “More hands won’t be helpful and having you standing over her fretting is only going to get in the way.”  


“Anders-” Fenris began.  


“You have my word,” Anders said. “Now go.”  


Fenris was about to refuse when Varric took his elbow and gently lead him away. He wanted to fight, wanted to remain at her side, but Varric’s grip was like iron. “We have to let him work, Fenris,” Varric said.  


The dwarf led him to the bathing chamber and together they washed all of the blood off of their hands. Once they were slightly less of a fright, they went and sat on the floor with Copper, who greeted them with a worried whine.  


Fenris rubbed the dog’s ears absently, barely managing to nod to Bodahn when he brought them glasses of warm, mulled wine. He heard the front door open and the sound of multiple feet running over.  


“How is she?” Isabela hurried into the room followed by Sebastian and Merril.  


“Isabela told us what happened,” Merril breathed. “Is there anything we can do?”  


“Did she tell you _all_ of what happened?” Fenris growled, lurching to his feet. All of his fear coalesced into a pure ball of rage as he looked at the pirate woman. “Did she tell you that it was her own selfishness that started all this?”  


Sebastian and Merrill looked awkwardly away as Isabela gave him a helpless look.  


“Fenris, you know I never meant for this to happen!” she said.  


“What I know is that if Hawke dies, it will be your fault,” he said, closing the distance between them. “She showed you nothing but kindness and this is how you repay her!”  


“You’re one to talk!” Isabela snapped back at him. “Talk about repaying her kindness when you’re the one who-”  


“Rivani,” Varric said in a warning tone. “Broody. That’s enough. From both of you.”  


Both of them turned to argue, but the look in Varric’s eyes brooked no argument. “If you want to spend what could be the last minutes of our friend’s life hashing this out, then take it outside and the _fuck_ away from me. I don’t care who is at fault for any of this. I care that my friend put herself in harms way, again, and this time might have been the one where her luck ran out.” He swiped angrily at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Choir boy, you’re on good terms with the Maker. Put in a good word for Hawke, please?”  


Sebastian gave his shoulder a squeeze and knelt down before the fire. Next to him the Mabari lay down with his head on his paws. Varric bowed his head, clasping his hands to his forehead. Isabela looked at the tableau and turned away towards the wine cellar with Merrill trotting at her heels. Fenris dropped to the ground next to Varric and stared into the fire as Sebastian called upon the Maker, Andraste, and anyone who would listen to please, honor their friend’s courage and sacrifice by giving her another chance at life.  


“And if you can’t,” Varric sounded broken, but determined, “please let her find peace somewhere beautiful. Somewhere we can all find her later and buy her a beer.” His voice trailed off into a sob and Fenris was aware of the tears on his own cheeks. He reached out and clasped Varric’s shoulder and together the four of them sat in silence occasionally punctuated by a quiet sob. Fenris could feel the dwarf shaking with the force of his tears and he realized with some shame that he had been so caught up in his own fear and feelings for Hawke that he hadn’t thought about how Varric, her best friend in the whole world, would be feeling. A glance told him all that he needed to know. The dwarf had told him once that Hawke was the closest thing to family that he had left. Fenris was sure that if Hawke died, it would snuff out something fundamental in the cheerful dwarf as surely as it would for him. With respect to Varric, Fenris gave Isabela a curt nod when she and Merrill returned with wine for all of them. There was a knock on the door and Bodahn hurried to get it, welcoming in Guardsman Donnic.  


The guard looked exhausted and worried. “Aveline?” he asked, looking around at their macabre little group.  


“Helping Anders with Hawke,” Fenris said, feeling an unworthy surge of anger. Here Donnic was looking so worried when it was not the woman that _he_ loved who was on death’s door. “She is well,” he forced himself to say. “As any of us are.”  


Donnic collapsed next to them, accepting a glass of wine from Merril. “Thank the maker,” he breathed. “But Hawke?”  


“It wasn’t looking good,” Varric said, his bloodshot eyes not meeting Donnic’s.  


“She's strong,” Donnic said. “Tough as nails, that one. I’m sure she’ll pull through.”  


Varric’s answering smile was watery and Fenris felt a surge of affection for the guard. He nodded to him and they lapsed into anxious silence.  


Together the five of them sat for what felt like an age, when Copper suddenly leapt to his feet and bolted to the top of the stairs. The five of them hurried after him and got to the top of the stairs in time to see Aveline and Orana supporting Anders.  


“Help me get him to the guest quarters,” Aveline barked at Isabela. Her eyes softened slightly when she saw Donnic and she spared him a quick smile.  


“Have to...tell them-”Anders mumbled.  


“I’ll handle it,” Aveline said. “You’re going to bed. Orana, please sit with Hawke, Copper, don’t let anyone else in until I get back.” She glanced at them all. “She’s alive,” she said before half leading half carrying the mage away.  


The mabari planted himself in front of the door, his intelligent eyes looking from person to person, but in that moment Fenris’ legs had turned to jelly and he leaned heavily on the bannister. “She’s alive,” he whispered. Copper’s tail thumped on the carpet.  


“Thank the Maker,” Sebastian breathed.  


Merrill clapped her hands together and pulled Isabela into a tight hug. By the candlelight Fenris could see that Isabela’s eye makeup was running down her face.  


Varric was uncharacteristically silent as he sagged heavily against the wall. “Hawke,” he whispered raggedly. “Fuck.”  


It was a few minutes before Aveline returned, wiping her bloodied hands on a towel. She gave Donnic a quick peck on the cheek.  


“Anders pushed too hard,” she said, shaking her head. “I was worried we might lose him if I didn’t make him lie down.” She took a deep breath. “Hawke’s alive,” she said without further preamble. “For now. It was...touch and go there for a long time. Her wounds...they were devastating. Four broken ribs, broken collar bone, the damage from the ax, dozens of other wounds that needed to be healed or stitched, broken wrist...it’s a wonder that she didn’t die from shock on the way home, if I’m honest. Anders worked a literal miracle almost at the cost of his own life. He used way too much of his own energy healing her. We almost lost two friends tonight.” She took a deep breath. “Someone needs to sit with Anders,” she said. “Make sure he eats when he wakes up and keep him from running back to Hawke’s bedside right away. And Hawke still needs someone to stay with her at all times to make sure nothing changes, I’m not sure for how long.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose and it was then Fenris saw how exhausted the guard captain was. “We can take it in shifts,” she said.  


“You should rest, Aveline,” Varric said, crossing to her and clasping her hand in his. “You’ve done…” his voice broke. “Thank you.”  


She smiled down at the dwarf as Donnic came to her and put his arm around her waist. “C’mon, love,” he said. “You’ve done all you can tonight.”  


“We will send you a message in the morning,” Fenris said, reaching out and shaking her hand. He wanted to hug her, but he was afraid he would lose any remaining composure he had and start crying. “Thank you.”  


She gave them a tired nod and squeezed their hands, then allowed Donnic to lead her away towards their home.  


“I am going to sit with Hawke,” Varric said. “Broody, I assume you’re with me.”  


Fenris nodded.  


“We’ll sit with Anders,” Isabela said, wiping her eyes.  


“I shall remain out here and help Bodahn and Orana,” Sebastian said. “And do whatever else needs doing.” They all shared a brief, grateful smile, and then broke off into their respective groups.  


Fenris followed Varric into Hawke’s room with Copper trotting at their heels. Inside Orana was dabbing at Hawke’s forehead with a wet cloth.  


“You should rest, Orana,” Fenris heard himself say. “You’ve done so much for her tonight.”  


The elf girl glanced at them. “Are you two going to stay with her?” she asked. “Because if you cannot stay the whole night, then I will. I _won’t_ let her be left alone.”  


Fenris felt a surge of warmth towards her. He’d thought her so weak when he first met her, but there was strength in her eyes and the way she jutted out her chin. Hawke’s kindness towards her was being repaid.  


“We’re not going anywhere,” Varric said gently. “You have my word.”  


Orana shot him a grateful smile and handed him the cloth that she was using. “She shouldn’t wake up tonight, not even for a few days, probably. But if she does, keep her quiet. Clear broth, nothing solid. Keep her warm. Keep an eye out for signs of infection or if her breathing starts to get too slow or too fast.” She reeled a little and Varric caught her by the elbow. “I think that’s everything,” she said. “I’ll be just downstairs if you need me. Maybe I should stay.”  


“We will take care of her,” Fenris promised. “I swear it. Please rest, you know that it is what she’d want.”  


Orana gave Hawke a tender smile and nodded. “All right,” she relented. She gave Copper’s head a gentle pat, then walked off towards the servant’s quarters, her shoulders bowed with exhaustion.  


Fenris and Varric each pulled up a chair on either side of Hawke’s bed, and it was then that Fenris got to take a look at her.  


“Fuck me sideways,” Varric breathed, reaching out and taking one of her hands. “How are you alive, sweetheart?” He brought her fingers to his lips and then sat with both hands clasped around her one.  


Fenris had to agree with the dwarf’s assessment. Hawke’s entire chest and most of her right arm were wrapped in layers of bandages. Her face, now that the blood and dirt had been wiped off, was covered in bruises and little cuts. How dark the bruises still were even after hours of healing drove home the gravity of her abdominal wound to Fenris. Normally healing magic would have mitigated those somewhat, but the wound must have been so grievous that there hadn’t been energy for anything else. Fenris guessed that the big wound and the ribs had been the focus, and if that had almost killed Anders...He sat down heavily in his chair and gently took her hand. It was so cold, especially for her. He stroked the back of it with gentle fingers, trying to will some of his strength, some of his warmth into her. _You have to fight_ , he thought to her. _Please, I know you’re strong enough to survive this_. He started at Varric’s voice and realized with shame that he had dozed off.  


“You did the lion’s share of the fighting today,” Varric said to him after a few minutes of silence. “Between the two of us, I mean,” he finished with a bitter laugh. “Why don’t you get some shut-eye, and I’ll stay awake with Hawke. We can switch in an hour or two.” He looked up at Fenris with eyes that gleamed with unshed tears and gave a sad little smile. “Not to use your own words against you, but you know it’s what she would want. And I’m...not tired. Not in the kind of way that’ll let me sleep, anyway.”  


“I’m not going anywhere,” Fenris said.  


“You don’t have to,” Varric replied. “Just put your head down and rest. I’ll watch over her.”  


Fenris would have liked to argue, but even as he tried to find the words he felt the utter exhaustion of the day’s physical and emotional toll weighing on him. He nodded to Varric and rested his arm on Hawke’s bed, taking care not to jostle her. He leaned his head into the crook of his elbow and soon fell asleep.  


He woke just as the sun was coming up, though he guessed he had only been asleep for an hour or two. His entire body ached and he was so exhausted he wondered for a moment what had wakened him. He realized that he could hear Varric’s voice speaking softly to Hawke.  


“I’m going to write a book about you,” Varric said. “Because honestly, your life is so insane that it may as well be put to the page. People will know the woman that you are. The proud, insane, loyal, overly protective, did I mention insane? I know they’ll accuse me of exaggerating. Probably think it’s all bullshit, but I’ll know it’s all true.” His voice had gotten a little thicker. “If anyone deserves to be immortalized that way, it’s you. But I-I don’t _want_ my pages to be the only place you live, Hawke. You’ve done the hard part, but you-you’ve got to stay with us to see how the next chapter goes. ‘Champion of Kirkwall’, I bet they’ll build you a statue. I want you to see it when they do. I want to visit the statue with you and laugh at how they got your nose just a little wrong. I want to be there every time someone thanks you and buys you a drink at the Hanged Man. I want to play Diamondback again. I have this new whisky I want you to try. It’s from Antiva. There’s so much crazy shit we haven’t done yet, Hawke. You _can’t_ leave us now. You can’t leave _me_ , now.”  


Fenris felt his throat burning at Varric’s words, but he didn’t want the dwarf to know that he’d been overheard. He made a point of grumbling something and shifting his position before he sat up. 

Varric shot him a small smile.  
“No change,” the dwarf said. “That’s something, right?”  


Fenris nodded. “You should rest now, Varric.”  


“I don’t think I can,” the dwarf said quietly. “Every time I so much as blink, I see that sword lifting her up into the air like she weighed nothing. I wouldn’t write a hero surviving something like that into a book. It’s too unbelievable.”  


“You don’t think she’s going to make it,” Fenris said, the awful realization hitting him.  


“I...want her to. Fuck me, I _hope_ that she does. I’m praying she does.” Varric said raggedly. “I-it isn’t that I don’t think she’s strong enough, Fenris, I just...how can she possibly?” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, suddenly looking a decade older. “Don’t tell the others I said that, Maker knows they are all worried enough and I know that my job is to be the one that calms everyone down. But you love her almost as much as I do, so I’ll tell you that I’m scared that I’ll never get to talk to my best friend again. If the worst happens, I will never have any kind of peace again unless I know that I spent every second I could with her. If she dies today...she’ll do it with her trusty dwarf sidekick holding her hand when she crosses over.”  


Fenris felt the tears tracking down his face as he nodded. He resolved that he would not rest until Varric did, and that if they were to lose Hawke, she would go with the two men who loved her most in the world by her side. They sat with her for the whole day, only relinquishing her hands to grab a quick bite to eat when Orana brought up a tray.  


“Not much change,” Orana said, looking worried.  


Varric shook his head.  


“The guard captain is here,” she continued. “She wanted to check on the mistress. And the others are asking. What should I say?”  


Fenris waited a beat, Varric usually handled these things, but he could see that the dwarf was looking lost. “Tell them she is resting,” he said. “We will let them know if there’s any change. Tell Aveline she can come in.”  


The other elf nodded and hurried away and soon Aveline was striding into the room. She was in a fresh uniform, but looked like she’d been covered in a fine layer of dust.  


“Helping with the recovery efforts,” she said, seeing Fenris looking. “Putting out fires, helping people sift through rubble.” She looked grim. “It’s rough out there. I figured you two would be here, so I could make sure the guards got on the right track.” Her green eyes narrowed with concern as she looked down at Hawke. “She looks terrible,” she said, gently resting the back of her hand on Hawke’s forehead. “No fever though, thank the Maker.” She glanced down at each of them. “Honestly, I don’t know who looks worse. Her, or you two. You both need to rest.”  


“No,” they said together.  


She sighed. “Well, then you need to go and change your clothes because I can’t imagine that days old blood and Maker knows what else is good to have around a bunch of open wounds. Certainly it’ll smell better in here if you bathe and change. Go, get something to eat, bathe, and change, and then come back.”  


“I can’t leave her, Aveline,” Varric said. “I just...can’t. I know you mean well, but please stop trying to make me leave.”  


Aveline gave a frustrated snort, though her eyes were sympathetic. “I suppose you’re going to be just as stubborn?” she asked Fenris. He nodded.  


“Fine,” Aveline said. “Then I am going to go to your homes and get you a change of clothes, but when I get back, you are both going to go and bathe. Understand?”  


They both nodded and she was as good as her word. She was back quicker than Fenris would have expected and she and Orana chivvied the two men into the bathing room where they left their clothes in neat piles on two stools.  


Fenris had to admit that scrubbing the grime off of himself felt good, and the change of clothes lifted his spirits just slightly. His exhausted muscles would have liked more time to soak, but he was impatient to get back to Hawke’s bedside, as was Varric. 

Sebastian stopped them on their way out with two plates with some good cheese and crusty bread. “Aveline said you should eat this all before you go upstairs,” he said. “And that Anders is with Hawke now, so you wouldn’t be able to be in there anyway so don’t bolt your food down.” The three of them sat with Copper by the fire and though Fenris never would have thought he’d be hungry, he found himself wolfing down the food on his plate. Varric did the same and by the time they were washing it down with some of Hawke’s very nice beer, the door upstairs opened. They set their plates down on the sideboard and hurried upstairs where a weary looking Anders was talking with Aveline.  


“I am a little worried about her wound,” he was saying as they jogged up the stairs. “I think we need to start changing the dressing every few hours. Her bandages were soaked this morning. It’s looking a little red and if it gets infected, as deep as it is, it’ll kill her.”  


“What do you need us to do?” Fenris asked.  


“Have you ever changed a dressing before?” Anders asked.  


“Not for something like that,” Fenris said. “Nothing that...deep. But tell me what to do, and it shall be done.”  


Anders nodded and led them over to the table nearest the bed where he’d laid out bandages and gauze. He walked them through the process and pointed out the various potions that he’d made. Things that could calm a fever, cleanse a wound, or bring sleep. “She will probably react to the changes,” Anders warned them. “Maybe not the first one or two, but she will eventually. It is...hard, when someone you care about is screaming in pain while you are trying to help. There is no shame in asking someone else to help. The important thing is that it gets done.”  


“It will be,” Varric said. “You should rest, Blondie. You’re looking a little gray.”  


“I...I will be back as soon as I can,” Anders promised. His expression was downcast. “I wish I could have done more,” he said softly. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”  


“If nothing else, you bought us all time to say goodbye,” Varric said gently. It looked like the words cost him a great deal to say and Anders looked stricken to hear them. “Go rest, Anders,” the dwarf said. “You’ve earned it. Thank you for all you’ve done”  


Fenris nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He and Varric took up their positions on either side of Hawke while Aveline saw Anders out. 

She returned after a few moments and dragged a chair over next to Varric. “She’s going to make it,” she said. “This won’t be goodbye.”  


“You have no way of knowing that,” Varric said, his hand clasped around Hawke’s. He glanced over at Aveline. “I appreciate what you tried to do, but don’t ask me to leave again.”  


“I figured you two would want to help with her dressing changes,” Aveline said, meeting his gaze levelly. “You couldn’t do that as you were. So I’m not sorry, but I won’t ask you to leave again unless Anders says it is necessary.” The two of them nodded at each other and fell into companionable silence. Their other companions came and went nearly constantly, everyone wanting to check on Hawke, but too soon Fenris noticed that there was a pinkish spot on Hawke’s dressing. He brushed his fingers over it and saw, to his dismay, that they came away wet.  


“I’ll do it,” Varric said, standing and going to the table. “You two hold her down if she starts thrashing.  


“Are you sure?” Aveline asked gently.  


“I said, I’ll do it,” Varric replied, not looking at her. He brought the things he’d need to the bed and laid them out, then with gentle hands began to peel her dressing away. Hawke shifted as the bandage stuck to the wound, making a soft little sound of pain. “It’s all right,” Varric murmured to her. “I know it hurts, but it’ll help. Just try to relax.” His words trailed off into a soft curse as her wound was revealed to them.  


Anders had succeeded in closing it, though Fenris would never understand how something that enormous and open could have been closed. But the wound was still an ugly, livid slash across her stomach. No amount of potions or healing would completely erase a scar that big.  


Fortunately, Hawke was still too far out of it to do much more than let out a few little whimpers of pain as Varric made quick work of the dressing change. He threw the old bandages in the special jar that Anders had left for them and went to wash his hands. When he came back, it was clear he had been crying again, but none of them mentioned it. A few hours later it was Fenris’ turn, and he’d felt his heart leap into his throat when she’d whimpered and twitched away from his hands. Aveline and Varric had soothed her, and so the dressing was done. This became their new pattern, with Anders stopping by as often as he could to check on Hawke’s condition. One night he asked all their companions to join them and looked at them gravely as everyone arranged themselves in front of Copper’s fireplace.  


“She’s healing,” he said one night as rain lashed the window. “Thank you for the help with her dressings,” he said to them. After the first few days, their other friends had each offered to help. Everyone had done it at least three times by that point, though Varric and Fenris still did most of them, particularly the ones overnight. “You have kept the wound from becoming infected, which is honestly a miracle. However,” he took a deep breath. “It worries me that she hasn’t woken up yet. It’s been almost two weeks. I would like to try and do some more work on her tonight. I have recovered from the night of the fight and I’m worried that if we let things go on as they are, she’ll never wake up.”  


His words drew a frightened gasp from Merrill and assorted comments from everyone else and he held up his hands. “I haven’t been able to reach Carver,” he said. “And since Leandra died, well, I know Hawke wouldn’t want Gamlen making choices for her. My worry is, if we leave her as she is, that she will slip further and further away until she is gone beyond where I can help. But...there’s a risk that performing another healing on her will kill her. She’s been through so much already, her body may reject the whole thing and decide it is too tired to fight anymore.”  


“So you brought us here to ask if we think you should try,” Fenris said, trying to sound calmer than he felt. He hated to admit that he agreed with Anders, but he did in his heart. It felt like Hawke was slipping away. He took a deep breath. “I...for what my opinion is worth, I think she would rather we take action than just wait.”  


“I agree,” said Aveline. “Just waiting was never really her strong suit.”  


“Heal her,” Isabela said. “You know she’d hate this...doldrums.”  


“Please heal her,” Merrill said softly. “She looks so small and gray just lying there.”  


“The Maker gave you your skills for a reason, man!” Sebastian added. “Use them!”  


They all turned and looked at Varric, whose strong jaw was clenching and unclenching. “We’ve kept her alive so far,” he ground out. “I-I don’t see why we can’t give her more time.”  


“I don’t think she has any more time, Varric,” Anders said gently.  


“So...what, you’re going to take her out back and kill her like she’s a horse with a broken leg?” Varric spat. “Just because you all don’t want to wait anymore? I’m sorry that our friend, the woman who saved all of our lives, saved our _city_ isn’t worthy of a little patience from all of you, but I-I…” he closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he visibly tried to calm himself. “I’m sorry,” he said after a few minutes. “That isn’t fair. I know it isn’t fair. But how can you all be so willing to take this chance? What if this-what if this is it?”  


“It’s what she’d want, Varric,” Fenris said and it made his heart ache, even though he knew it was the truth. “You know she wouldn’t want this forever. It would remind her too much of what happened to Leandra.”  


The dwarf’s eyes were still clenched shut. “I know,” he finally ground out. He took a deep breath. “I’m going to be in the room with you, Anders.” He looked up at everyone and gave a defeated shake of his head. “I’m sorry for what I said,” he said softly. “I know you’re all right. I’m just…”  


“Scared,” Merrill said. “We all are, Varric.”  


One by one they nodded.  


“I am ready to start as soon as you all are,” Anders said. “If you want to take some time and...see her.” He didn’t say it, but they all knew he meant time to say goodbye, just in case.  


One by one, each of their friends went into Hawke’s room and spent a few moments alone with her. The snippets that he caught from his spot by the door were enough to break a man’s heart. Bodahn and Sandal had just sounded worried, with Bodahn begging the good lady to come back home. Sandal had sounded so confused as he murmured: “Wake up, nice lady.” Orana was openly sobbing as she thanked her mistress for all she had done. “Champion of Kirkwall they’re calling you,” Gamlen had said. “Leandra would have been so proud. Hell, I’m proud.”  


It had felt right to let the members of Hawke’s household go first, but it only got harder with their friends. Isabela’s choked apology and promise to make it up to Hawke if she just woke up. “Drinks on me, forever,” the pirate had said before rushing out of the room. Merrill had offered a prayer to Falon’din and thanked Hawke for being her friend. Sebastian prayed over her for a few moments, then pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and said: “Come back to us, sister.” Aveline had just sat quietly with Hawke for a few minutes holding her hand, before rising and stating calmly. “Donnic asked me to marry him and I need a maid of honor. So, you have to wake up because I’m not wearing a damn dress without you.” Her voice broke at the end and for the first time he could remember, Fenris heard Aveline sob. Finally, it was just him and Varric left. They stood with Anders in the firelight.  


“Anything you’d like to say?” he asked them both.  


Varric leaned over her and kissed her forehead, clasping both her hands in his for a few long minutes. “I swear you’ll see me again,” he promised her softly. “In this life or the next one, I will find you again.” his voice grew husky. “Please don’t make me wait until the next one,” he begged. He whispered something that sounded like dwarvish, then rose, wiping his eyes. 

He gestured for Fenris to approach, and as he did Fenris found he had no idea what to say. He took her hands as Varric had and rested his forehead against hers. “Please,” he whispered. “We need you to come back. I need you to come back because I love you and I still need to tell you.” He pulled back because he wasn’t sure what else there was to say. He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them, then rose and nodded to Anders.  


The mage stepped forward and put his hand on Hawke’s shoulder, murmuring a few quiet words before stepping back and stretching his hands out. “You can take it off now,” he said to Varric and Fenris. Together, working quickly, they unwound the layers of bandage covering Hawke until she was lying in only her breastband and the blankets up to her hips. Anders’ hands began to glow blue and and as Fenris watched, the ugly wound began to glow as well. To his horror it unknit just slightly, allowing a thin trickle of blood. He was about to say something, but saw that almost as soon as it had begun, the wound was knitting back together in a slightly more straight, neat line. Sweat beaded on Anders’ forehead as he rested a hand above Hawke’s heart and held the other over her head. Fenris’ markings were almost buzzing with all the magical energy in the room and though it was distinctly uncomfortable, he didn’t move from his place holding Hawke’s hand. He had no idea how long they remained like that when suddenly Anders crumpled to his knees and he felt Hawke’s hand move just slightly. Next to him, Anders struggled to his feet and placed his palm on Hawke’s forehead.  


“Hawke,” he whispered, sounding exhausted but triumphant.  


“Nothing is happening,” Fenris said anxiously. “Is she-”  


“Asleep,” Anders said. “Just asleep. She’ll wake up by morning,” he grinned a boyish grin at them. “I’m going to tell the others!” He hurried off and soon Fenris could hear everyone’s voices outside of the room. “I said by morning,” Anders said with some humor. “She isn’t awake yet. You all have to stay out here until she’s awake.”  


“We will be here when she is,” Aveline said, which was followed my murmurs of agreement from the others.  


The next few hours were some of the longest of Fenris’ life as they waited for any sign of life from Hawke. He was beginning to wonder if the mage had really been certain when a sleepy sound came from the bed and Hawke’s eyelids began to flutter. She turned her head side to side sleepily and then her eyes shot open so suddenly that it startled Fenris. She jerked like she was trying to sit up. “The Arishok!” she gave a heartbreaking little groan, her hand going to her belly, and sank back against the pillows. She breathed heavily for a moment and then Fenris saw movement down the bed like she was trying to swing her legs out from under the covers.  


“Hawke,” Fenris said softly, putting his hand on her head and combing his fingers through her hair as she had so often for him. She stilled under his touch. “Hawke, can you hear me?”  


“F-Fenris?” her voice was breathy and tired. “Is that...is that you?” She blinked her eyes open and when they met his Fenris heard himself give a little sob of relief.  


“Hawke,” Varric said, his voice sounding rough. “Thank the Maker.” His enormous hand wrapped around hers and squeezed.  


“Varric,” she said softly. “Is everyone ok? Did the Qunari leave? The Arishok...is he? Did I?”  


“Everyone is fine, thanks to you,” Varric said and Fenris could hear how hard he was working to hold back tears. “The Arishok is dead. The Qunari are gone.” He gave a wet little laugh. “You’re the big fucking hero, Saoirse Hawke, but I’m just glad to see you open your eyes again.”  


Her brow furrowed a little. “Was I-was I out long?”  


“Almost two weeks,” Fenris said.  


“That’s a hell of a nap,” she said wryly. She closed her eyes and her breathing sounded labored. “Fuck,” she whispered.  


“What is it?” Varric asked. “Anders!”  


“It’s ok,” she murmured, her eyes still closed. “Just...hurts. A lot. Never hurt like this before.”  


“Not shocking, considering what you went through,” Anders said, approaching the bed with a smile. “You’re going to have to rest.”  


“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?” she asked. Her lip quivered as her fingers touched the edge of her scar. “Fuck me.”  


“Let me give you something for the pain,” Anders said and his calm voice belied the happy tears that Fenris could see on his face. “The best thing you can do now is rest. Can you tell me where it hurts the worst?”  


“Stab wound,” she rasped, her eyes clenched shut. “Ribs are...sore. Collarbone...aches. Everything. No wonder I wanted to stay. Didn’t hurt there.”  


The three men looked at each other, but no one said anything.  


She cracked an eyelid and looked at them. “Look...like I-I shot your puppy,” she said. “I’m...not-”  


“Shhhh,” Varric said gently. “Save your strength, Hawke.”  


She gave a tiny shake of her head and forced her eyes open, though it was plain to see it was a monumental effort. “I’m glad...to be...home,” she said. “Thank...you.” Her head lolled back on the pillow and her breathing was coming in quick pants.  


“Take this,” Anders said, tipping a potion into her mouth. She did as he asked and soon her breathing had leveled out as she fell back asleep. He turned to Fenris and Anders. “That potion along with the healing I did should have her well enough for visitors in the morning,” he said. “But for now, I think we should let her rest.”  


Fenris was about to argue and he could see Varric was too when Anders held up his hands. “We are all relieved that she’s all right,” he said. “But she needs rest without having to hear us cry and speculate about what we would have done if she died. Besides,” he said looking them both over, “I think you’re lucky she was so out of it tonight. If she’d seen you, it would have worried her to death. Get some rest so that you don’t scare her tomorrow. I’ll sleep in her room so that if anything changes, I can be there.” He glanced out the window. “That potion will ‘work its magic’ for about twelve hours. She should be up first thing tomorrow.”  


Fenris didn’t love the idea of Anders spending the night in Hawke’s room, but he forced himself to acknowledge how petty that was. They all owed Anders her life. Grudgingly he nodded his head and steered Varric away by the shoulder. The dwarf resisted a little, but eventually subsided. They were both filthy and exhausted and he knew it. Orana had fetched some of their things so they had clean clothes to change into after they bathed, and Fenris fell into a fitful slumber as soon as his head hit the pillow. He must have been more tired than he thought, because it was well past first light when he and Varric woke up. Varric sat up rubbing the heel of his hands against his eyes.  


“Dreams?” Fenris asked, propping himself up on his elbow.  


“For as long as I live,” Varric said. He took a deep breath and managed a small smile. “But today is a good day. Let’s go see Hawke.”  


When they approached her door they heard her voice inside sounding much more alert than the previous day. Together they knocked and it was Aveline who answered, her honest face bright and smiling. “She asked us not to wake you,” she said apologetically. “The others have been and gone already. I was just on my way out to help some more with cleanup, but Anders asked that you only see her one at a time until she gets her strength back.” She glanced back at Hawke. “Who should I send in first?”  


Hawke’s voice sounded a little tired, but otherwise like her.  


“Varric.”  


****  


It took a lot to render Varric Tethras speechless, but as he crossed the threshold into Hawke’s room anything clever he might have said went out of his head. She was there, sitting up heavily supported by pillows and her face lit up as soon as she saw him. It looked like she wanted to launch herself out of bed to hug him, so Varric hurried over and as gently as he could took her in his arms before she could hurt herself.  


“Don’t you dare ever scare me like that again,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “The next time a giant, pissed off oxman challenges you to a duel, you say NO, do you understand me? It isn’t your job to fight every single fucking fight, Saoirse!” he hadn’t intended to sound angry, but when he felt her flinch he knew that he had.  


He pulled back and looked at her, noting that her eye was no longer swollen shut and the bruises had faded to a sickly yellow. A lot of her color had returned, but there were tears in her eyes.  


“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, sounding heartbroken.  


He took both her hands in his. “No,” he said as gently as he could. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Hawke. You did something incredible, something I can’t even put in a book because it sounds so far-fetched.” He squeezed her hands. “I just need you to worry about Hawke now and then, all right? I’m not ready to be done taking your money in Diamondback yet.”  


She pulled him towards her and as gently as he could, he sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulders.  


“I was scared,” he finally admitted to her. “Terrified. Actually. During the fight when he--” he shook his head as the awful image came back. “Then after...when you were unconscious...I have to admit, Hawke, in my darker moments I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to talk to you again... in this life, anyway.”  


“Aveline says you and Fenris were here the whole time I was gone,” she said. “You took care of me. Changed my dressing. Kept me clean. Even if you thought I was going to die, you didn’t give up on me. Thank you,” she whispered.  


“Always, Hawke,” Varric said, hearing the catch in his voice. “I will never give up on you, you hear me?”  


She nodded and leaned against him and for a few moments Varric just allowed himself to listen to her breathing and feel relief that he hadn’t lost his dearest friend in the world. She was safe. She knew that she was loved. What else could he ask for after all that had happened?  


“I’m sure Broody wants to get in here,” he said, reluctantly extricating himself. “But I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “I’ll be right outside.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I love you,” he said softly. “You know that, right?”  


She nodded, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. “I love you too,” she said with a smile that wavered just a little bit. He squeezed her hand and then forced himself to walk out of the room rather than tell Fenris that he could go hang. He knew that the elf needed what he had needed, to touch her and know that she was there, she was solid, she was alive.  


****  


As soon as Varric walked out, Fenris took a breath to steel himself and then entered Hawke’s room. She was leaning on a mountain of pillows and though there were tears in her eyes, she was smiling.  


“Hawke,” he breathed, seeing how the color had started to return to her cheeks. He supposed it hadn’t hit him until that moment just how terrible she had looked.  


“Fenris,” she said with a shy smile. She motioned him over and took his hand, but he found that simply wasn’t enough. As gently as he could, he folded her into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head. Her eyes were luminous when he finally pulled back, and she patted the spot next to her on the bed. “If you...if you’re comfortable,” she said, looking away.  


He sat with her as gently as he could and wrapped his arm around her, stroking her shoulder with his fingertips. She made a soft, happy sound and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.  


“Aveline tells me that you and Varric never left my side this whole two weeks,” she said after a few minutes. “That you changed my dressings, cleaned me, made sure I was still breathing.” She looked up at him. “You didn’t have to do that for me,” she said softly.  


“I would have it no other way,” he said. “I know you would do the same for me, were I the one who got into a one on one fight with the leader of the Qunari military.”  


She flinched a little and he hugged her gently to let her know that he was mostly teasing. “You were magnificent,” he said, for that seemed the only word that was big enough. “It is right that they are calling you the Champion of Kirkwall. No one can deny your skill or your bravery.” He looked down and saw that she was looking up at him. “It is just that those who love you would prefer that you occasionally think of yourself first. We were all scared we were going to lose you.”  


“Thank you for not giving up on me,” she said quietly. “But also for being willing to let me go, if it had been my time. I wouldn’t want to be...bound here. Like mother was.”  


Fenris tightened his grip on her and turned his face into her hair, allowing himself the barest brush of his lips against it. “I would never let anyone do that to you,” he promised. “Though letting you go would have been the hardest thing that I’d ever done.”  


“Please don’t,” she whispered. “Let me go, I mean.”  


He felt his heart clench and while he wanted to kiss her so deeply that she’d know without the shadow of a doubt that only death would ever take him from her side, he settled for holding her tightly against him until she fell asleep. He stayed with her that night until Anders came to check on her in the morning and he caught the look that Anders gave him. Still, when Hawke smiled brightly at him it took away his thoughts of anything else. That was the only night he stayed during her recovery, though he spent almost every day with her and Varric as she convalesced. Their friends were there every day as well and seeing all of their relief at her recovery made Fenris feel like they had all been bound together by what had happened. He found himself joining Sebastian for services now and then, feeling that he owed whatever powers that were his gratitude. He even sent Anders a bottle of the mage's favorite rum, with a note that said simply: “Thank you.”. He knew that he owed the apostate Hawke’s life and while he’d never call Anders a friend, it thawed his feelings towards the mage a considerable amount. Because of him the Champion of Kirkwall would live to fight another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this section is pretty dark and sad, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. It also marks a big shift in this fic. Up until now I have been mostly going purely established canon with little additions here and there. For the next few chapters since it deals with the time between Acts 2 & 3, not a lot is canon. Certain events (Aveline getting married if you've met the right conditions, for example) are, but a lot of the smaller details are my own headcanon. The next few chapters are going to introduce some OCs, with big and small parts to play. The goal is for Hawke to work through all that has happened to her in the past few years, which unfortunately means there are going to be a lot of sad/dark moments. Fluff will also happen! But as always, I don't want to blindside anyone.
> 
> P.S. The Arishok battle being "Forty of the longest minutes of [Fenris'] life" was written that way because that's how long it took me to beat the SOB. Hawke's strategy in the fic is how I survived, lol.


	10. Time Heals All Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and the city of Kirkwall begin to heal following the Qunari invasion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the fic diverges from cannon for awhile. I wanted to explore what healing emotionally would look like for Hawke. I think that she needs a chance to try to explore being with someone other than Fenris, but I didn't want it to be a member of her crew, so I made up a potential suitor. Of course, moving on is easier said than done. This chapter is a mix of fluff (yay wedding preparations!) and angst.

Saoirse Hawke grinned up at Aveline as the other woman shifted awkwardly in front of the bed. The guard captain had spent every free moment with her since she’d woken up and she was grateful that there was someone who was able to make Varric and Fenris take the occasional break to rest and eat.  


“You wanted to talk to me in private?” Hawke asked. Aveline had all but chased the two men out when she’d arrived earlier. She found herself wincing slightly as she shifted position and she wasn’t quick enough to hide the facial expression from Aveline.  


“Are you all right?” Aveline asked, looking grateful for the distraction.  


“I’m fine, Ave,” Hawke said and it was mostly true. She was alive. The horrible wound from the Arishok’s blade was healing well, Anders said. She could even take a reasonably sized breath now that her ribs and collarbone had mostly healed. She had everything to be grateful for, so she wasn’t sure why she felt so...disconnected. Dim memories came back to her often as she fell asleep of somewhere warm and light where she could hear her mother’s voice and there was no pain. She couldn’t tell anyone, but she privately suspected that she had died at some point and it was only her friends interference that kept her from crossing over completely. Maybe that’s why it all felt so off these days. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to be here anymore. But then she saw the joy on her friend’s faces, she knew she couldn’t leave them just yet. And she wasn’t sorry to be alive. She was just...tired.  


“You don’t look it,” Aveline said, sitting down at the end of the bed. “If I can be honest.”  


“You always can with me,” Hawke said. “You’re my friend.”  


Aveline smiled at her. “Then as your friend, can I ask...if something were wrong, would you tell any of us?”  


Hawke sighed and looked down at her hands. That’s the problem with friendship. It meant that people knew you and could call you out on your bullshit. “In this case would I have any choice?”  


Aveline shook her head. “Talk to me, Hawke.”  


“I-I’m just...tired, Aveline,” she said. “Not like you should leave so I can sleep,” she hurried to add before her friend could suggest it. “But these past few years have been...hard. I don’t feel like I’ve stopped at all. And every time I get a win, it feels like I have to take a hit. I made it to the Deep Roads, but lost my brother to the Wardens. I find a man who...who I can see a future with and after one night he leaves me. I get mother her childhood home back and a fucking monster kidnaps and murders her. I do all I can to make peace between us and the Qunari and it still escalates to war. And the fight with the Arishok…” she felt herself shudder and realized belatedly that there were tears on her face. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Aveline. I didn’t mean to make this about me.”  


“I did ask,” Aveline pointed out. “Which I wouldn’t have done if I didn’t want to know. You carry a lot of weight, Hawke. More than you need to sometimes, I think. Everyone always asks you for help because, well, you’ve shown us all that you are someone can be relied on. Maker knows when I have a particularly hairy problem you’re always the first person I think of.” Aveline sighed. “But that’s a lot for one person to carry. I hope you know that I’ll share the burden whenever I can. However I can. You aren’t alone, Hawke.”  


“I know,” Hawke said and to her surprise, she did feel a little bit lighter. “Thank you.”  


She wiped the tears off her face and did her best to smile. “Now what did you want to talk about?”  


Aveline blushed. “I-Donnic asked me to marry him,” she said, smiling.  


Hawke grinned at her friend as a wave of joy swept over her. “Aveline, that’s wonderful news! When is the wedding?”  


“In the fall, I think,” Aveline said, “that gives the city time to heal and us time to plan. It’ll be small, but it’d honor both of us if you’d be there. In fact I-I’d like you to be my maid of honor.”  


“Oh Aveline,” Hawke gasped, feeling the buoyant feeling of genuine happiness that she hadn’t felt in some time. “It would be an honor.” She grinned up at her friend and then an idea occurred to her. “If I may, I think I know what I want your gift to be.”  


“You don’t need to get us anything,” Aveline said hurriedly.  


“I know how much of your own money you two have been putting into the rebuilding and rescue efforts,” Hawke continued. “Or at least, I can guess from what I hear from you and Varric.”  


“I hear that the Hawke fortune has been augmenting that as well,” Aveline said pointedly.  


“Yes well, that’s not the only thing I want it to augment,” Hawke said. “Let me pay for your wedding, Aveline.”  


The other woman blinked at her, shock written across her honest face. “I can’t let you do that, Hawke,” she said immediately.  


“Why?” Hawke asked. “That way you can have whatever kind of party you want and still have a little nest egg for whatever you need in the future. You do so much for this city, Aveline, you should get something back.”  


“I got Donnic,” Aveline said with a girlish smile.  


Hawke grinned at her. “You did, but I’d like to give you this too. Please?”  


Aveline stared at her for a few long minutes before giving a tiny nod. “I need to talk to Donnic first,” she said, holding up a hand. “But I-it’s a lovely gesture Hawke and I’d feel like an ass if I said no.”  


“You would be an ass if you said no,” Hawke agreed. “A dumbass. Does this mean I get to put you in a puffy dress?” The look of horror on Aveline’s face was enough to give Hawke her first big laugh since she woke up, and the pain was worth it.  


“If I wear one, so do you,” Aveline threatened.  


“What were you going to wear? Your uniform?” Hawke asked.  


Aveline hesitated. “I...don’t dress up often,” she said. “Will you come with me? I’d like to look nice, at least.”  


Hawke felt a warmth bloom in her chest. “Of course,” she said reaching out to take Aveline’s hand. “I look forward to it.”  


****  


They say that time heals all wounds, and even Hawke had to admit as they strode down the wide streets of Hightown several weeks later that things were looking pretty well healed. On the surface, it looked like the Qunari had never invaded. Things were as clean and orderly as they ever were. She felt a little glow of pride at that. The fact that the Champion was putting so much money back into the city had worked wonders for shaming the other nobility into opening their coffers as well.  


But she imagined that Kirkwall was a lot like her own body. Sure, things looked mostly back to normal on the outside, but there were some things that would linger on for some time. There was a distinct edginess in the people now. It reminded her of the conditions that led to forest fires back home. All it would take was a spark to set the whole city up again.  


Hawke gritted her teeth and tried to put the thoughts out of her mind. Today was supposed to be a fun, happy day. Today they were going to find Aveline her wedding dress.  


Aveline had wanted the whole dress thing to be a surprise for Donnic, so Hawke had been sworn to secrecy about the whole business. This meant that she couldn’t rely on Varric for help, so she’d had to go out and find a shop herself. She’d gotten lucky, however, as it turned out that the wife of the man who sold Orana her fabric ran a small store. She was a former Fereldan refugee, like themselves, and when she’d greeted them with a broad smile Hawke took an instant liking to her. She was a thick waisted, sensible woman, with stunning black hair that fell down her back in a shimmering sheet.  


“I’m Edwina,” she introduced herself, giving them each a firm handshake. “And you’d be the bride then?” she asked Aveline.  


Aveline looked a little startled. “How did you know?”  


Edwina chuckled. “You have the look. And this’ll be your maid of honor?”  


Hawke nodded, smiling. There was something comforting about Edwina.  


“Well, my lamb, what are you thinking?”  


Aveline gave a hopeless shrug. “I-I don’t really wear dresses,” she said, blushing. “I don’t even know what would look good on me.”  


Edwina eyed her up and down. “Well, you’ve got a lovely figure,” she said. “Though not one that’s right for some of the more...Orlesian fashions.” She said the word like it was a derogatory one and Hawke stifled a giggle.  


Aveline was shaking her head. “I want something simple,” she said. “I just..” she blushed and looked down.  


“You’d like to take the young man’s breath away?” Edwina asked, a canny look on her face. “Nothing wrong with that, my dear. I’ve been married to my Gordon for nigh on twenty years and I still get satisfaction out of making his old eyes bug out of his skull! Now, lets see…” she began to sift through the bolts of fabric on a shelf. “Did you have any colors in mind?”  


“Not white,” Aveline said. “It’s...my second wedding. I am...I was widowed in the Blight.”  


Edwina patted her shoulder. “I am sorry to hear that,” she said kindly. “I’m sure it would give him peace to know that you’ve found love once again.”  


Aveline’s eyes widened and grew shiny and Hawke took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you,” she said to Edwina.  


“Well, with your coloring, I’d steer clear of a red or pink,” Edwina was saying. “How do you feel about something a little more...subtle, like silver or gray?”  


Aveline nodded slowly. “Yes, I think that would be perfect.”  


“Oh, lovely! I think I have just the thing. GORDON!” her shout was so sudden that it made Hawke jump and almost reach for her staff. A handsome older man hurried down the ladder in the corner, his brown eyes sparkling.  


“Yes, love?” he asked after bowing over first Aveline's, then Hawke’s hand.  


“Where is that silver damask that silly gel who jilted the old Chevalier ordered?” she asked. “You remember the one?”  


“Of course,” he said. “I have it upstairs in storage. It was very dear, you know.”  


“We’ll be needing all of it,” Edwina said. “And some of that lovely dove gray velvet since I am assuming this is a fall or winter wedding?” she glanced at Aveline.  


Aveline nodded. “Late fall,” she said.  


“Lovely, lovely, then the velvet will be perfect, nice and warm. The silly lass was quite a bit shorter than you are,” Edwina said. “But with the velvet, it’ll be perfect. Now, I’m guessing that under the guard captain’s uniform you don’t wear a corset, so we aren’t going to make anything too restrictive for your wedding day.”  


Aveline looked startled and Hawke had to admit surprise as well. She hadn’t mentioned who the bride was.  


“Come now, Guard Captain,” Gordon said. “After all the good you’ve done in this city the only face more recognizable than yours is the Champions.” He gave a little bow. “You’re well-loved here, my lady,” he said to Aveline. “We will make sure that your gown is one that is spoken of in legends.”  


“All right, old man, calm down,” Edwina said with a smile. “The lass doesn’t want anything too fancy; she’s a sensible woman.” She patted Aveline’s shoulder. “I promise we won’t get carried away, my lady. But it will be magnificent. Now, why don’t you step into the back with me and we’ll get your measurements and talk about the design.” She glanced over at Hawke. “Did you have any specific ideas for your maid of honor’s dress? Gordon can get her started.”  


Aveline shook her head. “I just want her to be comfortable,” she said, smiling at Hawke. Edwina nodded and took her by the elbow and led her back into a little room lined with mirrors with a little stool in the middle. She closed the curtain and Hawke was left alone with Gordon.  


“So, Champion,” the old man said. “Red, I think.”  


Hawke blinked at him. “Red? Won’t that be a little...much?”  


Gordon chuckled. “Not if I know my Edwina. No one will outshine your friend on her night, Messere, not even you.”  


Hawke felt herself relax just a little and joined Gordon in looking over the sumptuous fabrics in their collection. She eventually settled on a deep scarlet damask with gold embroidery, though she waited to show Aveline before she made any final choices. Aveline had gasped, however, and nodded vigorously. “Hawke, that’s going to look lovely with your coloring! You have to get it!”  


Hawke had grinned at her friend and they’d left the shop with light hearts. As the day of the wedding drew closer, Aveline stopped inviting Hawke along for her fittings. “I want it to be a surprise,” she said. “For you as much as Donnic...well, almost as much.” Hawke loved seeing her friend get so excited, so she didn’t protest. Then, one day she received an unexpected invitation that proved to be as much of a distraction as her friend’s wedding.  


****  


Hawke stared into the basket that had been left on her writing desk, an odd feeling stirring in her chest. That had been dozens of baskets since she’d been declared “Champion of Kirkwall”. Dozens of baskets, dozens of invitations, dozens of gifts, but this was the first that had actually piqued her interest at all. Inside there was a small wheel of cheese with a familiar blue stripe marbling it. She knew that cheese. It had originated near her home in Lothering. A love of its powerful taste had been one of few things she and her mother had shared. Everyone else in their family thought they were crazy. 

_Dear Saoirse,  
Please forgive my boldness in using your name, rather than your title. My name is Jacob Durand and if you are of a mind, I would like to invite you to my home for a meal and conversation. I shall be home tomorrow evening if you would do me the honor of your presence. If you would like to bring a chaperone along if you are concerned about visiting a strange man’s estate, I understand. Please send a reply with my man at your earliest convenience.  
Your friend,  
Jacob  
P.S. I do hope you enjoy the cheese. It was a welcome taste of home for me. _

She handed the letter to Varric, who had come for their weekly meeting about finances. He was showing her how to use her money to make money. “What do you think?” she asked.  


“Durand….Durand...I know that name,” Varric said, frowning at the letter. His eyes widened and a mischievous grin filled his face. “Oh...Hawke. I think this is the Count that I’ve been hearing so much about.”  


“The _Count?_ ” she asked. “Varric, is this from one of your books?”  


He chuckled and shook his head. “I can see why you might think that, and when you hear this guy’s story you’ll think it even more. He was in the Banorn during the Fifth Blight. He’s probably, oh, forty-five, I’d guess. He had a small holding there, little village, you know the drill.”  


Hawke nodded and gestured for him to follow her up to her office where they both sprawled in chairs in front of the fire. “Go on,” she said once they were settled with wine.  


“Well, Darkspawn attacked and rather than hiding in his manor, he warned the village and evacuated them all onto his property behind his walls. He stood with his guards and fended them off, though word has it that his wife and daughter died during the attack. He made his money in an expedition like ours, from what I understand. Followed the Darkspawn that killed his family down into their hole and eradicated them.”  


“Well, shit,” she said quietly, staring down at her wine.  


Varric nodded. “Apparently he pisses the other nobles off to no end.”  


“So you think I should go?” she asked.  


Varric shrugged a shoulder. “What could it hurt?” he asked. “If nothing else you’ll get a meal and a story.”  


_It could hurt Fenris_ , Hawke thought. She shook her head, annoyed at herself. She wasn’t a petulant enough child to pretend her feelings for Fenris had gone, especially after how he and Varric had cared for her following the battle with the Arishok. In the middle of the night, alone with her thoughts, she would even acknowledge that at some point before they had even slept together she’d fallen in love with him. But he had his own stuff to work through and couldn’t be with her. But she saw how he looked when Anders or really anyone but Varric flirted with her. But if he couldn’t be with her, didn’t she owe it to herself to continue to live? It’s not as though this invitation from the count was anything serious.  


“He’d understand,” Varric said, his clever eyes seeking hers out.  


Hawke sighed. “I shouldn’t care what he’d think,” she said. “Beyond how much I care what any of my friends would think. I just...I want to be patient and give him space, Varric. But I…”  


“You can’t do nothing forever,” Varric said firmly. “And you’ve been...mired for awhile, Hawke. Since you woke up, I’d say.”  


She blinked at him. “You’ve noticed?”  


“You asked me to teach you about _investing_ ,” Varric said with a wry smile. “But yeah, I’ve noticed. We’ve all noticed. And I don’t blame you. Almost dying changes a person.”  


“I _did_ die,” she said, feeling the weight leave her to finally admit it to someone. “I...I know I did. I saw my parents, saw Bethany...they were there, Varric, waiting for me. They wanted so badly for me to stay there where it was warm and there wasn’t any pain. But I-I came back here where it took me weeks to even be able to walk again. Where even with all Anders did, it still hurts to breathe sometimes. Here where I’m scared that Mages and Templars are going to go to war any second. Where the man I love…” she shook her head and wiped angrily at tears. “Mired is a good word. I’m stuck, Varric and I feel like I’m drowning. Or that it might be better if I did.”  


“Hawke,” Varric’s voice was soft and rough and in an instant he was kneeling in front of her and gently taking the wine glass out of her hands. He pulled her down next to him on the floor in front of the fire and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Maker, why didn’t you tell me?”  


“I didn’t want to worry you,” she sniffled, dabbing her eyes with the handkerchief he offered. “You fought so hard for me to come back, Varric, and I’m not sorry you did I just...I don’t know. I’m supposed to be this ‘Champion’ and half the time I don’t even feel like a real person.” She looked up at him, suddenly terrified that she’d made him feel guilty. “I’m not sorry that you fought for me,” she said, needing him to understand that she meant it. “I love you for it. I’m grateful for it. I just...I don’t know how to reconcile where I was and where I am now.”  


She felt the rasp of his stubble against her cheek as he kissed her temple. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what to say. I won’t tell you that I’m sorry because I could never be sorry that you’re still with us. But I wish that there was something I could do to help.”  


She took his hand and squeezed it. “You do by being here,” she said. “I’m sorry for upsetting you.”  


“Stop it,” Varric said, taking hold of her chin and making her look at him. “You should never feel sorry for being honest with me about what you’re going through. If I’m upset, it’s because I love you and it breaks my heart to hear you say that it might be better if you drowned.” His warm eyes were intense as they searched hers. “Nothing would be better if you weren’t here,” he said quietly. “Not me. Not Fenris. Not Kirkwall. Not _anything_. The world is better for you being in it, Saoirse Hawke.”  


She gave into the tears then and wrapped her arms around her best friend, sobbing into his shoulder. His strong hands, so steady at Bianca’s trigger, shook as they stroked her hair.  


“It’s all right,” he murmured into her ear. “Just let it go, Hawke.”  


“Thank you,” she sobbed, clinging to him. “Thank you, Varric.”  


“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he said, tightening his grip on her. She felt his lips press against her head. “Always.”  


She must have cried herself to sleep, because it was dark when she awoke. Varric’s arm was still around her, though the dwarf was snoring. She looked up into his dear, familiar face and for the first time in a long time felt grounded. Moving slowly so as not to wake him, she rose and went to find the Count’s man. She would go and see him.  


****  


Fenris was practicing his sword forms when he heard the familiar sound of Varric’s heavy footfalls approaching his practice room. He sheathed his blade and greeted the dwarf when he entered. He knew immediately from the look on Varric’s face that something was going on.  


“Join me for a drink,” Varric said, holding up a bottle of the smoky whisky that was Fenris’ favorite. “We need to talk.”  


Fenris followed his friend into his bedroom where Hawke’s fire was still burning in the hearth. The two sat down at the table and Varric poured for them both.  


“Before I begin, I want you to know that while coming here was my idea, Hawke knows that I’m here,” Varric said.  


“All right,” Fenris said, knots forming in his stomach. Had he done something to finally make Hawke send him away?  


“I’m sure you know that since she became Champion, Hawke has been getting a lot of...invitations,” Varric said.  


Fenris nodded. There had been so many parties. Enough that each of her friends had been to at least two.  


“Well, a rich, handsome Count has asked her to dinner,” Varric said. “And I told her that she should go.”  


It took Fenris a fraction of a second longer than he would have liked to force his face into an impassive expression, but he knew it was long enough for Varric to catch it.  


“Yeah,” Varric said. “ _That’s_ why I said I’d talk to you. She’s going through enough without seeing that.”  


“Is she all right?” Fenris asked, Varric’s words worrying him. His relationship with Hawke, though it lacked the easy intimacy it had had before they slept together, was still his closest friendship apart from Varric. “I-I’ve noticed that she’s been...off. Did something else happen?”  


Fenris noticed that a lot of the tension appeared to have gone out of Varric’s expression. “No,” Varric said gently. “No, nothing particular happened, Fenris. But she needs…”  


“To move on,” Fenris said. He heard how rough his voice sounded, so he knew Varric heard it too. “She needs to start living her life again instead of just...spinning her wheels.”  


“Yes,” Varric said.  


“And you were worried that if she told me herself-”  


“All it would take is seeing the look on your face right now to make her second guess accepting the invitation,” Varric said firmly. “She didn’t tell me I could tell you that, but it’s the truth, so there it is. I don’t think you know how much you mean to her, Fenris. I’m sure you don’t, actually. But I know how much she means to me, and I think to you, and where she is right now...it’s not tenable.”  


“I understand,” Fenris said, hating that he did. But the thought of Hawke alone in her mansion just...waiting forever was a heartbreaking one. He had no way of knowing if he’d ever be whole enough to be the man she needed again. “And since it is you telling me and not Hawke, I can tell you that though it _rips my heart out_ pains me to say it...I agree. She should go.” He looked at Varric and tried to smile. “She deserves to be happy, Varric. That’s all I want for her.”  


Varric surprised him by rising and pulling him up into a hug. “You’re a good man, Fenris,” the dwarf said, clapping him on the shoulder. “And before you ask, I’ll be going along as chaperone. I’m not going to let her go off to a strange man’s house without backup.”  


Fenris thanked him for that and together the two of them polished off a substantial portion of the bottle before Varric took his leave. “You probably won’t hear from us until late tomorrow or early the next morning,” Varric said gently. “Durand lives outside of town and if the weather is bad we might stay the night.”  


“Of course,” Fenris heard himself say, trying to ignore the look Varric gave him. “Thank you, Varric for...telling me.”  


“You’re welcome,” Varric said. “Thank you for not making me hit you.”  


Fenris forced a chuckle and saw Varric out, pressing his back to the door once the dwarf was gone. He tried not to think about when he’d had Hawke against this door, the way her lips felt, the way her arms had held him so tightly. Those days were done. He would never stand in the way of her happiness, no matter how much it made his own heart ache. Wasn’t that what the poets said? When you loved someone, you let them go.


	11. Castles & Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke goes to visit Count Jacob Durand and is surprised by what she finds. Fenris does his best to be a good friend, despite his heartbreak.

“This isn’t what I expected,” Hawke said as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Count Durand’s home. She had been expecting a massive palace or manor house with sprawling wings, floor to ceiling windows, and enormous gardens filled with roses and topiaries. Instead the carriage had brought them through a lovely little stand of forest that opened onto rolling hills. Set neatly in them was, well, a castle. It wasn’t a very large castle, but it was undeniably a castle. Four towers poked up within a substantial curtain wall and an honest to goodness drawbridge was down over a lively river, allowing them entrance. Inside there was a row of neat little cottages, a stable, a few other outbuildings, and what looked like a massive herb garden.  


“Not a bad location,” Varric said, opening the door and handing her out. “Fresh air, trees, all that stuff surfacers like.”  


“It’s a fucking castle, Varric!” Hawke said, looking around.  


“Indeed,” said an amused male voice.  


Hawke whirled around, a flush rising to her cheeks. A handsome older man had come around the corner, holding a handful of rosemary. He was wearing a simple pair of breeches with a fawn colored shirt that had been rolled up to his elbows. His skin was a shade or two darker than her own and he had the build of a warrior, with broad shoulders and a waist that had not gone to fat. He had black curls cut short like her own, though there was more gray in them and in his neatly trimmed beard. He bowed courteously and his dark eyes crinkled at the corners when he rose.  


“I must admit that to my shame I was expecting you to arrive ‘fashionably late’,” he said. “I should have known better when you have defied all other expectations.”  


“Oh, fuck me,” Hawke said, then she clapped a hand over her mouth. She knew just as surely as she knew that Varric was trying to suppress a laugh that this was the Count.  


The man let out a raucous laugh then. “I am guessing introductions are a little pointless at this juncture,” he said. “But for the sake of propriety, allow me the indulgence. I am Jacob Durand and this is _my_ fucking castle. Welcome, Saoirse Hawke.” He stuck out his hand.  


“For what it’s worth,” Hawke said taking the proffered hand and shaking it like she’d have shaken any Ferelden farmer’s, “it’s a lovely fucking castle.”  


He grinned at her and then glanced down at Varric. “Ah, and you took me up on my offer of chaperone, I see. This must be your friend the writer. Master Tethras, if I am not mistaken?”  


Varric shook his hand and not so subtly raised his eyebrows at Hawke. “Your spies are almost as good as mine,” he said with a smile.  


Jacob chuckled. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. Your names are household ones after the invasion. You, the guard captain Aveline, and the elf Fenris. You were the three that fought at the Champion’s side.”  


“Please don’t call me that,” Hawke said. The title still felt strange and cumbersome.  


Jacob inclined his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, wincing. “You would think that the ‘Hero of Green River’ would know better. Please, won’t you come in and have a drink while I get cleaned up?”  


He led them to the impressive front doors that looked as though a dragon could easily walk through and opened a smaller door set within them. Inside a dignified looking elf woman with the distinctive Dalish tattoos was striding towards them.  


Durand smiled at her. “Ah, Neriel, I apologize. I should have listened when you pointed out that our guests would probably be more timely than the usual ones. Would you mind getting them settled while I change?”  


The woman raised a dark eyebrow, her lips quirking into a smile. “Well it’s no fun if you don’t let me say ‘I told you so’ m’lord.” She bowed to Hawke and Varric. “Come, Messeres. I’ll take you to up to the library. Best views up there.” She turned and led them through a door that Hawke noticed could be bolted shut and up a long spiral staircase lit by polished lanterns. She opened the door at the top and Hawke found herself blinking in the sudden light. This room was more what she was expecting when she thought of a Count’s estate. There were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on three of the four walls with a fire crackling merrily on the northern wall. But the southern wall was a massive window from about knee height up facing a dark section of the river that they had crossed. In the distance they could see the walls of Kirkwall and the shimmer of the sea.  


“Maker,” Hawke breathed. “This is lovely.”  


“His Lordship is very proud of it,” Neriel said, inclining her head at the compliment. “Now, what can I get you to drink? Wine? Whisky?” She raised an eyebrow at Varric. “Ale?”  


“Whisky, thank you,” Hawke said.  


“Same,” Varric said. “I have to say, it’s odd to see a Dalish elf in service to a human count.”  


Neriel crossed her arms. “Any stranger than a surfacer dwarf chaperoning a human noblewoman?”  


Varric grinned. “Comparable, I’d say.”  


Neriel chuckled. “I was with him during the Blight,” she said, growing serious. “My clan was attacked by Darkspawn in the middle of the night...our Keeper sent me, her first, and three of the other fastest hunters to warn the human settlement.” Her eyes got the far away look that Hawke recognized in others who had fled their homeland. “His Lordship, he took us in and let us fight at his people’s side. Three of my clan stayed at his old holdings in Ferelden, hoping to start a new clan. Me and my friend Alarion are the ones who chose to come to the Free Marches.” She jerked her chin towards the courtyard below. “Alarion took to the forge. He’s the apprentice blacksmith here now. And I’m the Count’s steward,” she said, pride evident in her voice.  


“Is he a good man to work for?” Hawke asked.  


“The best,” Neriel said with a sly smile. “Though I would imagine you’ll be taking my words with a grain of salt, considering.”  


Hawke had to chuckle. She liked Neriel. “I appreciate your honesty,” she said.  


The elf bowed and slipped out a door cleverly hidden by another bookshelf. As soon as she was gone, Saoirse turned to her friend. “Holy shit, Varric!”  


“I agree,” Varric said. “Did you see the drawbridge? Maybe I should do some more work on Swords and Shields. This place has me feeling very, oh...romantic.”  


“Every door can be barred,” Hawke said, feeling the gooseflesh on her skin. “This was built by someone who has seen some shit.”  


“I think all of us who survived the Fifth Blight can honestly lay claim to the distinction of having ‘seen some shit’.”  


Hawke almost groaned aloud. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d put her foot in her mouth so many times upon first meeting someone. She turned to look, and saw that Jacob in the doorway holding a tray with a decanter and three crystal glasses. There was no censure in his expression, however. Rather, he was smiling. If she had thought him handsome before, the change of clothes only enhanced that opinion. He was a simple dark blue doublet and dark gray breeches, with worn leather boots. His clothes were well-made, but not ostentatious.  


“Most people don’t notice the doors right away,” he said, pouring for the three of them. “They are usually commenting on the quality of the wall hangings or my lovely carpets.” He raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t said a thing about the carpets.”  


Hawke felt her lip twitch, realizing he was teasing her.  


“Would you mind if I had a look around your library?” Varric asked. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen so many books in one place.”  


“By all means,” Jacob said with an expansive gesture. “You might even recognize one of the authors.”  


“A man of taste, I see,” Varric said with a grin. He snagged a glass of whisky, bowed to the count, winked to Hawke, then wandered away out of hearing distance.  


Jacob raised his glass and clinked it against Hawke’s. “Well, if the old scolds in the nobility had seen any of our introduction they would all collapse in a fit of collective apoplexy,” he said with a smile. “So I see no reason to stand on ceremony now. Was I correct in addressing you as Saoirse in my letter, rather than ‘Champion’, or ‘my Lady’?”  


“Hawke would have been fine as well,” she said, smiling up at him. “That’s what most people call me.”  


Jacob gestured for her to join him in a pair of chairs by the window. “You are an impressive woman, Saoirse,” he said. “Though I am sure you’ve been told that before. I have to admit, your exploits, as well as your company, had piqued my interest before the invasion. But when I saw you fight that night I knew I had to meet you.”  


She managed not to groan, but only just barely. Maybe she had miscalculated in coming here. But Jacob was leaning forward in his chair, a look of consternation on his face.  


“I am making a hash of this,” he said, sounding exasperated. “Please forgive me. For what it’s worth, my reasons are not quite the same as many others, I don’t think. I assume that your Master Tethras has told you something of my story.”  


“Well, him and the cheese,” Hawke said. “I know you’re from the Banorn and that you escaped like we did.”  


“Indeed,” he said, taking a sip of his whisky. “The things I saw...losing my Granuaile and Moira as I did...it changes a man. They died because they were determined to protect our people and as I watched you accept an impossible duel to protect your friend, I knew you were cut from the same cloth.”  


“Most people say I accepted the duel to protect Kirkwall,” Hawke said.  


“Which it did,” Jacob said. “But I saw your face when the Arishok told you he planned to take the your friend away. Your reasons, in that moment, were personal.”  


Hawke shrugged and took a sip of her whisky. “It was the right thing to do,” she said. She gave self-deprecating little laugh. “My ribs may not always agree, but it was.”  


“I know the feeling,” Jacob said, knocking one knuckle against his calf. It made a hollow, wooden sound. He caught the surprise on Hawke’s face and gave a knowing nod. “Ogre,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t quite fast enough.”  


Hawke’s hand strayed to her belly before she could stop herself. “Me neither,” she said quietly.  


“We are quite the pair,” Jacob said. He raised his glass. “To those we have lost,” he said quietly. “And to being faster the next time.”  


Hawke raised her glass and together they took a drink. She found herself...troubled. It wasn’t drinking with Varric, but sitting and conversing with Jacob felt oddly...normal. She didn’t feel on edge, or especially worried about what might come out of her mouth.  


“If you’ll permit me, you look lovely,” Jacob said. “Red is a good color on you.”  


Despite herself, Hawke blushed. She had no intention of setting up an expectation she was not inclined to meet regularly by showing up in a dress, so she’d worn a simple red velvet tunic with black trousers and her favorite black boots. “You’re kind,” she said with a smile.  


“Play me in Diamondback and see if you still hold that opinion,” Jacob replied.  


Hawke chuckled and looked around. “The big window doesn’t seem in line with how...fortress-like the rest of this place is,” she noted.  


A dark eyebrow arched. “Given the location, you can perhaps guess why I permitted it there.”  


“The river,” Hawke said immediately. “It’s too deep to cross over there, so even if someone with a big fuck-off catapult attacked that window, what are they going to do? Yell through it?”  


He gave a delighted laugh. “Indeed! Which is why I’ve allowed myself the same luxury in my rooms above. I’m sad to say the rest of the rooms don’t have quite the view.”  


_The view is even grander from my bedchambers, perhaps I could show you_ , Hawke thought. That’s what any of the other nobles whose homes she had been to probably would have said. Jacob just smiled at her.  


“Most noble women wouldn’t be commenting on the tactical aspects of my home,” he said wryly. “Nor would they note the need for a ‘big fuck-off catapult’ to attack it.”  


“I’m a terrible noble woman,” Hawke said, hearing the bitterness in her own voice.  


“I’ve been told that I’m a shameful nobleman,” Jacob said with a shrug. “Though not by any whose opinions actually matter to me.”  


“I don’t hate you,” Hawke said. “So you probably are.” She felt a rush of shame, feeling suddenly disloyal. She was _flirting_. She tried to put it out of her mind.  


“I am glad to hear you don’t hate me,” Jacob said with a grin. “Especially since I quite admire you.”  


She blushed and looked down. “So, why haven’t you introduced yourself before now?” she asked. “I moved up to Hightown a few years ago. That’s when…”she trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence without sounding insulting.  


“When most people began to sniff around for a bride?” Jacob asked shrewdly.  


She tapped her nose and pointed at him.  


“Honestly? I wanted to see what kind of woman you were,” he said. “You arrived back from the Deep Roads with more money than you could spend in a lifetime. That changes people. Would you use that money to drape yourself in the newest Orlesian fashions and gamble? Would you become a regular at the Blooming Rose? Would you buy the biggest mansion in Hightown? Would you attempt to oust the Viscount? The options are endless, really. Instead you bought your mother her childhood home and dedicated yourself to the people of Kirkwall. Even after losing your mother you stayed involved in the city, right up until you saved us all.” He cocked his head. “I doubt very sincerely that you recall, but I was one of the Arishok’s hostages. I was in the Keep utterly certain that I was about to be reunited with my wife and daughter and then...you arrived. The Arishok greeted you like an equal and even though you'd obviously been fighting for hours, you accepted his challenge and proved to be his better.” His intelligent eyes dipped briefly to her belly. "At great personal cost to yourself." He took a deep breath. “I don’t have many friends, the ones I do have are carefully chosen. I would be honored to count you among them one day.”  


Hawke squirmed a little in her seat, uncomfortable with the praise. He’d only listed things that she could hardly deny that she’d done, but the warmth in his tone made the simple recitation feel like something more. His dark eyes were fixed on her and she found herself nodding to him. “I think...I think I’d like that,” she said. He grinned at her and the expression was so warm and genuine that she found herself smiling back. She found herself relaxing back into her chair and when Neriel arrived with tea some time later she and Jacob were in the midst of a passionate conversation about crop rotation.  


Jacob winced as he shifted position, giving the elf an apologetic look. “You don’t need to say anything,” he said with a wry smile.  


“You mean about how you haven’t moved in two hours and your leg hates that?” Neriel replied mildly.  


Jacob chuckled and rose, waving off Neriel’s hand. “Yes,” he said with a wry smile. “That.” He turned to Hawke. “If you would excuse me, I am going to stretch my legs for a bit before dinner. You are welcome to have Neriel show you around the rest of the castle, or avail yourself of any of my books, or…” he hesitated and offered his arm. “You are welcome to join me, of course.”  


Hawke glanced over to the corner where Varric was ensconced in a large, leatherbound book. He raised an eyebrow at her. She shot him a quick smile and then turned back to the count. “I would like that,” she said, rising and taking his arm. “I am curious to see more of your home.”  


He smiled at her and led her out a different door than the one they had come in, leading her down and out into the area within the curtain wall.  


“So did you build all this?” Hawke asked, pausing to run her fingertips along the sun-warmed stone.  


Jacob nodded. “I learned my lesson in Ferelden,” he said sadly. “I wish I had taken the time to shore up my walls before the Blight.”  


“I think a lot of people do,” Hawke said, thinking of Lothering.  


He nodded. “Now at least I know that the people who serve me are safe, should there be another attack. Everyone who works in the castle is housed within the wall.” He chuckled. “They are like me. Outsiders who prefer their own counsel and company, so it suits us all.”  


“It seems-”  


“Boring?” he asked knowingly.  


She gave a genuine laugh. “Only in the sense that I always seem to find trouble, which, you know, makes things interesting.” She grew serious, reflective. “But no, Jacob. This is a beautiful place you have built for yourself. I can see why you’d rather be here than in Hightown.”  


He turned to look at her. “Does that mean you might be interested in spending time here in the future?” he asked. “Because I think I would enjoy it very much, if you did.”  


Hawke hesitated, the niggling feeling of being disloyal weighing on her again. She shoved it aside. He wasn’t asking her to marry him or anything. “I think so,” she replied.  


Jacob smiled at her and then they heard a bell somewhere in the distance. “Dinner,” Jacob said. He led her inside where Hawke was somewhat surprised to see that like in her own household, everyone ate together. The meal was simple, but delicious, and when it was done she sensed the first hesitation she’d felt from Jacob all evening.  


“My home is open to you for the night,” he said. “Should you desire to stay instead of making the long trip back. The moon is not quite full so the roads will be very dark.”  


Hawke gave the staff leaning against the wall a meaningful look. “I’m not scared of the dark,” she said with a little smile. “And I should be getting home. Bodahn and Orana would worry.”  


Jacob inclined his head and walked her to the door with no protest once the carriage was ready. Varric hopped in after thanking the count, leaving the two of them to say goodbye.  


“Today has been a rare pleasure,” Jacob said. “And I mean that sincerely. I very much look forward to our next meeting, Saoirse.” He bowed low over her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.  


“Thank you, Jacob,” Saoirse said, giving his hand a squeeze. “And whenever you do find yourself in Hightown, you are always welcome to the salt at my table.” The Fereldan farewell slipped from her lips so easily that it surprised her, and she saw his eyes widen slightly. She hurried into the carriage before she could say anything else and leaned against Varric as it rumbled away.  


The two of them didn’t speak much during the journey back. Jacob’s driver was right there, after all. The return trip took a little over two hours, but Hawke invited Varric in for a drink once they arrived at her home. She also invited the driver to stay, an offer that seemed to surprise him somewhat. He accepted gratefully and once she’d greeted Bodahn and Orana the two of them took him off to the servant’s quarters. Varric followed her up to her quarters once all of that was settled where he, ever the gentleman, turned his back while she changed into the comfortable clothes she wore to lounge around her home. Together they sat on the floor in front of her fire with glasses of wine.  


“Well?” Hawke asked.  


Varric chuckled. “Well what?” he asked, his eyes full of mischief.  


“What did you think?”  


“Of what?” Varric asked.  


“Of...all of it!” she said helplessly.  


“I think that you are my best friend and I will be happy as long as you are,” Varric said. “I can certainly think of worse places to visit you than an actual, literal castle, where my books are in the library.” 

His eyes held hers. “But my opinion doesn’t really matter here, Hawke. It’s not me he’s courting.”  


“He’s not-” but then she paused and thought about it. She thought about the way Jacob had looked at her, especially as she was leaving. “Oh...shit.”  


Varric patted her hand with a chuckle. “You could certainly do worse,” he said. “He’s smart, he cares about his staff, he has your inexplicable interest in crop rotation.”  


“Crop rotation is-”  


Varric held up his hand. “Hawke, I’ve heard the entire diatribe every time you get really drunk. You’re going to have to do much better than that if you want to distract me from asking you what you thought of Count Durand.”  


Hawke sighed and took a sip of her wine. She had been trying to puzzle out her feelings for the whole ride back. “He is a good man,” she said finally. “As you say, he cares about his people, he cares about doing the right thing. He reads. He listens. He doesn’t care what the other gentry think of him.” She chuckled. “He’s even handsome.” She shook her head, staring into the flames. “Honestly, Varric, if you’d asked me...three years ago what my perfect man would be...he’s pretty damn close.”  


“But he’s not Fenris,” Varric said softly.  


“No, he isn’t,” she said. “I didn’t feel the…” she blushed, but it was Varric. She could tell him anything. “I didn’t feel the _heat_ with him that I felt with Fenris right from the start." She shook her head with a sigh. "That probably sounds stupid.”  


“Not to me,” Varric said a little sadly. She reached out and took his hand and they sat in silence for a few minutes.  


“I think I’ll see him again,” she said eventually.  


Varric raised a thick eyebrow. “Oh?”  


She sighed and scrubbed her hands over her face. “I think I should give it a chance,” she said finally. “I don’t think that I will never feel about anyone the way I do about Fenris. But that...that’s not the only way to feel, is it? Lots of people have lives together without having…”  


“Passion?” Varric supplied, looking a little sad.  


“Yeah,” Hawke said quietly. “And I mean, I only just met the man. Maybe things will change over time.”  


“Is that what you want?” Varric asked. “For things to change?”  


“Well, I don’t want to feel like this anymore!” she exploded, lurching to her feet. “I don’t want to feel like I’ve lost the only chance at happiness that I’m ever going to have! I don’t want to feel like I’ll never be held again, touched again, _fucked_ again, Varric!” She felt the tears trailing down her face and then Varric’s warm hands wiping them away. “Do you know how I felt every time I realized I was flirting? Fucking _guilty_. I don’t want to feel that anymore. In a perfect world, the man that I love would be able to be with me. But he can’t and I don’t know if he ever can and I…” she wrapped her arms around Varric’s shoulders and leaned against him. “I want to wait for him,” she said. “But it’s killing me. I miss him so much even though he’s right fucking there.”  


“Oh Hawke,” Varric said quietly. “I think you have to do whatever you can to heal, whatever that means for you. I know how much you mean to Broody, but you can’t wait for him forever or you will end up hating him in the end.” There was such bitterness in his voice that Hawke pulled away and looked down into his eyes. He sighed and shook his head. “Trust me,” he said softly. He hugged her around the waist and nodded to her bed. “You should rest,” he said. “It was a busy day, Countess Saoirse.”  


She couldn’t help but smile at him and let him chivvy her into her bed. “Thank you for being you, Varric,” she said quietly before he could leave. “I couldn’t ask for a better friend.” He squeezed her hand and blew out the candles by her bed.  


“Neither could I, Hawke,” Varric said. “Goodnight.”  


****  


Varric tried not to stare at Fenris as the other man sat focusing intently on the contents of his glass. He’d been too exhausted to visit the elf immediately after he’d gotten home from the count’s estate, but he’d made a point of going over the next morning. He knew Fenris would be on tenterhooks and he wanted to put the man out of his misery. He’d been expecting him to be attacking his unfortunate practice dummy or practicing sword forms. Instead, he found him curled up in a green blanket in front of the fire in his room clutching Hawke’s crest in the hand that wasn't wrapped around a very full glass of wine.  


_Oh no_ , Varric thought. Out loud he said, as gently as he could. “Morning, Broody.”  


“Varrrrric!” Fenris slurred, looking up at him finally. His eyes were red and puffy. “And how was your outing? Is our Hawke to become a Countess, after all?”  


“Have you slept at all?” Varric asked. He knew that warning Fenris of where they were going was the right call, but maybe he should have had Aveline keep an eye on him.  


Fenris waved a hand, slopping wine into the fire. The fire did not react at all, which struck Varric as odd. As drunk as he was, Fenris still must have seen the look on his face.  


“Hawke...made this fire,” he said, turning and blinking owlishly into it. “The night you got back from the Deep Roads. She was too cold to wait for it to catch. Sh-she asked me though...before she lit it. Didn’t want to scare me. Veery considerate woman, Hawke.”  


“And it’s still burning,” Varric said. _Well there’s an apt metaphor if ever there was one,_ he thought.  


“That it is,” Fenris said. “Like...like something from one of your damned books. Fire keeps burning in the heart…” he trailed off, shaking his head.  


“Fenris, it’s time to go to bed,” Varric said firmly.  


“I should go see her!” Fenris said, lurching to his feet. “Tell her I’m happy for her. A Countess! Leandra would be so proud!” The bitterness beneath the surface of his drunken good humor was so intense that it was an almost physical presence in the room. And in that moment, Varric had had enough.  


“You will do no such thing,” Varric said. “And if you try, I will shoot you. Not kill you, but shoot you. You are in no condition to do anything, let alone talk to the woman you love. Right now you’d fuck it up forever.” He pointed at the bed. “Go. To. Bed.”  


For just a moment he thought that Fenris was going to retort or take a swing at him, but instead his shoulders sagged. “‘’M sorry,” he whispered. “Trying to-to get it out of my system before I see her. It…hurts to know where she was. Knew it would...but it’s worse.”  


“I know, Fenris,” Varric said as gently as he could. “But no one except Aveline is getting married. There’s been no declarations of love or plighting of troths. She had a nice time with a nice man, which is what you said you wanted. Now go to bed.”  


Fenris nodded and stumbled towards his bed, his hand still tightly clenched around Hawke’s sigil. He was out in seconds, but Varric decided that it would be wise if he stuck around, just in case.  


_The two of you are going to be the death of me,_ he thought as the elf snored behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you guys like the OCs! I really wanted them to feel like real people who fit in with the Kirkwall crew. If you have any thoughts/critiques I'd love to hear them. Thanks for reading so far! Next chapter we will spend a little more time with Count Durand and his people and see how this new development in Hawke's personal life impacts Fenris.
> 
> Also, the crop rotation thing comes from a Reddit thread a few months ago where folks were talking about their DA Headcanons that have turned into canon in their heads. A user named AlayneMoonStone had one about Hawke being passionate about crop rotation due to their time as a farmer in Lothering and it immediately became my headcanon as well.


	12. Unconditional Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Jacob exchange unconventional presents while Fenris tries to adjust to the new normal.

_Dear Saoirse,  
My Dylan tells me that you opened your home to him after he drove you back, citing the late hour. He wishes me to convey his appreciation and to please pass his fond regards to Mrs. Marsh, whose cooking he found to be exquisite. Speaking of things that are exquisite, I hope that you will accept this tapestry. It is a recreation of one of Althuriel’s treatises, which I’m sure you know were one of the first recorded descriptions of crop rotations.  
Be well, and I hope to see you soon.  
Warmest Regards,  
Jacob_

Hawke was sitting in her office reading the note from Jacob when there was a soft tap at the door. “Come in,” she said absently as she unrolled the tapestry and looked at it with a smile. It truly was an exquisite replication.  


“Is that from him?” Fenris’ voice made her jump and she whirled around, hating how guilty she felt.  


“Yes,” she said, trying not to sound defensive. Gently she rolled the tapestry up and set it on top of Jacob’s letter.  


One of Fenris’ dark eyebrows was raised almost to his hairline. “Were those...diagrams of crop rotation?” he asked. He gave a wry smile, though Hawke knew him well enough to spot the pain in his eyes.  


Wanting desperately for things to be all right between them, Hawke did the best thing she could think of. She stuck out her tongue.  


Fenris chuckled and shook his head. “I am glad to see that things went well,” he said, the smile fading from his face as he looked into her eyes.  


“Fenris-”  


“Please let me finish,” he said softly. “I’m afraid if I do not say this now, I will never again be able.”  


She fell silent, wanting so badly to reach out and take his hand.  


“Hawke, I hope that you know that I want you to be happy,” he said. “And if this man continues to make you smile the way you were when I walked in then...I could not ask for more.” His lips curled up into a smile that did not make it all the way to his eyes. “I shall always be your friend,” he continued softly. “For as long as you’ll have me.” He took a deep breath and a step back. “I have taken enough of your time for the day,” he said with false brightness. “I shall see you at the Hanged Man later, I’m sure.” Then he all but fled.  


Hawke dropped into her chair, hating the tears that immediately sprang to her eyes. Angrily she wiped them away. She knew full well what Fenris was doing. He was releasing her and it ripped her apart. She loved him for it because she could see plain as day what it cost him. At the same time, she _hated_ him for it. She wanted him to fight for her! She didn’t want to lose him, to have him do the honorable thing and bow out. But that’s what he’d done and she would do her best to follow his lead, no matter how badly it hurt her.  


She stared dully at her parchment and quill. She should reply to Jacob, but her hands were shaking horribly. Why did it all have to hurt so much? She must have sat for over an hour, because the sun was beginning to set when she focused her eyes again. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and, squaring her shoulders, grabbed parchment and a quill. If Fenris could be strong enough to come and let her go, she owed it to him and what they had shared to make her own effort. 

****

“I have something for you,” Jacob said one night a few weeks later as they watched the rain from comfortable chairs in front of the library window. She had continued to visit Jacob a couple times a week, more often than not with Varric in tow. The dwarf usually left them to their own devices, exploring the castle when they chose the library, or enjoying the library himself when they chose to walk the grounds. Sometimes when the weather was fine they would go for a ride in the countryside around the castle.  


Hawke glanced over at him, startled. “Jacob that’s...you didn’t-”  


He chuckled and held up a hand. “I promise, it isn’t a book of sonnets or a bolt of silk for you to have made into a dress. It is something that I hope sincerely that you will never have need of.”  


Hawke relaxed a little. “That’s...a little unsettling, Jacob. I won’t lie.”  


He smiled at her and opened the tiny drawer on the table between them. He pulled out a little box about the size of her palm and held it out to her. Hawke swallowed and took it from him, then opened the clasp with some trepidation.  


Inside there was a medallion with a young woman’s face on the front, with an embossed arrowhead on the back. It was on a delicate silver chain that was so finely wrought it had to be of dwarven make.  


“It’s lovely,” Hawke said, and it certainly was. She felt butterflies in her stomach, however, because something told her it wasn’t just a pretty necklace. “I will confess I don’t understand what it means.”  


“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Jacob said. “But allow me to explain.” He rose and went over to the wall, where a stunning oil painting of a two-masted ship plowing stormy seas hung in a lovely golden frame. “This is Moira’s Arrow, the fastest brigantine in the Free Marches. I had her built after finishing this place.” He gestured to the walls of his castle. “If we’d had her in Ferelden, perhaps we could have escaped in time to save my wife and daughter. I swore that I would never again be so ill-prepared. I dock her outside the city.”  


“In case we face another Blight?” Hawke asked. There was a worrying thought.  


Jacob gently straightened the painting before sitting back down next to her. “Or any other disaster. Strife can bring out both the best and worst in people, as you well-know. Every person who lives here has one of those amulets,” he said. “All they must do is show them to Captain Isura and they will be safe.” He favored her with a sad smile. “I hope that you will never have need of it,” he said. “But if you do, you and any who you bring with you will have a berth upon my ship.”  


Hawke stared at him wide-eyed and he chuckled and reached across the little table to take her hand. His hands were large and calloused, and slightly cool to the touch. He squeezed her hand gently. 

“I’ve surprised you,” he said. “But I would be a fool to imagine that the woman who came within a hair's breadth of crossing over in order to save a friend would ever leave them behind.”  


Hawke flinched before she could stop herself and Jacob’s thumb caressed the back of her hand as he gave her a knowing look. “You have the look,” he said simply. “And I say that as one who sees it in the mirror each morning.”  


“The ogre?” Hawke asked when she found her voice again.  


He nodded. “It attacked the night after I lost Granuaile and Moira when I felt that I had nothing left to lose. I baited it, hoping that it would kill me so that I could find them again. But it was not the quick death that I had expected.” He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “It is a fortunate thing that Neriel’s clan’s first, Seranaya was there. Had she not been…” He gazed out the window. “After I woke up, it took a long time to believe that it was a good thing that I had. I’d lost everything, or so I thought. But my injury allowed my people to rally and kill the ogre, and that I had done something so ‘brave’...it inspired the people who joined me in eradicating the darkspawn that took my family from me. It allowed me to amass the wealth that allowed me to build my home, and my ship.” His dark eyes found hers. “Sometimes it takes a long time for it to feel like you’ve truly come back.” He reached into his doublet and pulled out a handkerchief and Hawke realized at that moment that she’d begun to cry.  


She accepted it gratefully and dabbed at her eyes. She didn’t cry in front of many people, and that she could cry in front of Jacob made her realize that somewhere in the past few months he’d become a friend.  


“Do any of your friends know how close you came?” he asked gently.  


“Varric,” she said. “He’s the only one who I’ve told. Others might suspect but…” she shook her head. “I don’t want to burden them.”  


He squeezed her hand. “You can always talk to me,” he said, his voice quiet.  


“They asked me to stay,” Hawke heard herself saying. “It was so warm, and the pain had stopped, and my family was there waiting...but I heard Fenris and Varric’s voices begging me not to go and I-I couldn’t leave them.” She shrugged one shoulder. “They are my home.”  


Jacob nodded and rose, gently pulling her to her feet and into a hug. His arms were strong around her and for just a moment, Hawke allowed herself to lean against him and accept the comfort. It felt wonderful to be held.  


“For what my humble opinion is worth,” Jacob said, taking a small step back and looking down at her. “Thedas is better for your continued presence in it.”  


She blushed and looked up into his dark eyes. “Thank you, Jacob,” she said quietly.  


He inclined his head and reached down to take the little box from her hands, pulling out the delicate chain. “May I?” he asked, and she noted with some alarm that his voice a little husky.  


Hawke hesitated for a moment before nodding and Jacob unclasped the necklace and stepped behind her. She felt the cold of the pendant as it slid down her breasts and Jacob’s hands sent a little shiver through her as they brushed the nape of her neck. She immediately felt guilty for that, her mind automatically going to Fenris. She gritted her teeth and spun around quickly, catching Jacob off-guard with a hug around his waist. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. She pulled back to look up into his eyes. “Knowing that I could get the people I love out if I needed to...that lifts a weight I didn’t even know was there.”  


One of his broad, cool hands cupped her cheek. “I am glad to hear it,” he said in a voice that was so quiet she would have missed it if she hadn’t been looking up at him. His gentle eyes held hers as he leaned fractionally closer. “I confess, it eases a burden I hadn’t realized I was carrying to share what happened with the ogre. One doesn’t often meet people who got to make the choice to rejoin the world of the living.”  


She nodded, uncertain of what to say. It was a terrible thing that bound them, but she couldn’t deny that it created a deeper connection. That didn’t ease the feeling of guilt that she felt when he slid his free hand around her waist and gently pulled her a little closer. Part of her was screaming to push him away, that only one man should ever touch her that way. But wasn’t this what that particular man wanted for her? Hadn’t he all but said as much? She wasn’t sure that she even wanted anyone else, but...shouldn’t she try? And if she were going to try, shouldn’t it be with someone like Jacob? Someone with whom she had a genuine connection, who she actually _liked_ as a person?  


She was about to speak when she heard the sound of the dinner bell in the distance. Jacob straightened and offered her his arm, as always, and together they walked down to join Varric and the servants. She talked and laughed with them as she always did, but more than once she felt Jacob’s eyes on her. She declined his invitation to stay after supper, citing an early morning practice session with the guard as her excuse. Dylan was eager to drive her home if it meant that he’d get to sample some of Mrs. Marsh’s fine cooking. Jacob walked her to the carriage and held both of her hands while Varric climbed inside and got settled.  


He stepped closer, releasing her hands to put his arms around her waist and wrap her up in a tight hug. She hugged him back, once again acknowledging to herself that it felt really nice to be held by a man who seemed to have an interest in her. Once she promised to visit again in a few days, Jacob handed her up into the carriage and gave her a little wave before Dylan clucked to the horses and they rolled away.  


In the carriage, Hawke showed Varric the necklace.  


“That looks expensive,” he teased gently.  


Hawke nodded and explained what the amulet signified to Varric. The dwarf let out a low whistle. “That’s a hell of a gift,” Varric said. “Considerate of him.”  


“I know,” Hawke said, absently spinning the pendant on its chain. “It’s just like him.”  


“You admire him,” Varric said gently. “You two seem to be getting along.”  


Hawke sighed and nodded. “I like him,” she said. But not enough, she thought. _Not as much as I like Fenris_. Though she hadn’t said the words out loud, she knew from Varric’s expression that he knew what she was thinking. He always did.  


***  


A few weeks later, Hawke accepted Jacob’s invitation to dinner. His servants were going mushroom gathering and the cook, Mrs. Rush, was excited to have Hawke sample one of her “famous Mushroom Pasties”. She’d been glad to accept, though she’d felt guilty when the skies had opened and a torrent began to fall on Dylan and the horses. Varric was engrossed in a book as they drove, while Hawke contented herself with looking out at the countryside. She had come to love the rolling hills around the castle. She didn’t realize she’d dozed off until Varric was nudging her awake. She’d been so tired lately.  


“What is it?” she asked sleepily.  


“Aren’t those Jacob’s servants?” Varric asked, pointing out the carriage window.  


Hawke blinkd and stared out into the rain. Across the field she saw a young woman she recognized as Dylan’s apprentice Iona sprinting towards them, wildly waving her arms. Hawke banged on the roof of the carriage, but it was already slowing down. Hawke leapt out before the carriage had come to a full stop, catching Iona in her arms as the young woman stumbled forward.  


“Thank the Maker,” Iona gasped. “Master Dylan, Messere Hawke, there’s been an awful accident!”  


“Iona?” Dylan said, hopping down. “I thought you were joining the others gathering mushrooms today?”  


The young woman nodded and swiped chestnut colored hair out of her eyes. “We were, but there-there was a boar! We must have startled it!” Her eyes filled with tears. “I thought for sure that I was a goner, but August, he knocked me out of the way and the beast savaged him!” She glanced back towards the treeline. “August needs help, but we didn’t dare move him!”  


Hawke glanced at Dylan who shook his head, looking worried. “Messere, the carriage can’t make it into the forest. If I go to the castle I can get the pony cart.”  


“Do it,” Hawke said. “Varric, go with him. You know the kind of things I need for healing. I’ll do what I can for the boy until you get there.”  


“He’s by the old well, Master Dylan,” Iona said as Hawke grabbed her staff.  


Dylan nodded and leapt up into the carriage and sped away with Varric, leaving Hawke with Iona.   


“Lead the way,” she said to the younger woman, tightening her grip on her staff. Together they ran through the sheeting rain across the field and into the forest. They had run for long enough for Hawke to be winded when they finally reached a clearing. Hawke skidded to a stop, taking in the scene. The ground around them was trampled and covered with blood and there was a ring of servants around a prone figure on the ground. They were all brandishing large sticks and looking a little wild around the eyes.   


A young man with dark skin and eyes was leaning over the prone figure, holding what looked to be his shirt to the other young man’s middle.   


“Mazin!” Iona said, slipping between the defenders and kneeling down. “How is he?”   


Mazin shook her head, his eyes worried. “He’s fading,” he said, sounding desperate. “And the cursed beast won’t let us be!”   


Just then there was a horrible rasping growl from the woods to their right. Hawke spun to face the sound and found herself looking at a massive, furious boar. There were several arrows sticking out of it, but it didn’t look like they had done more than enrage it. The beast snorted and then, without further preamble, charged them. Thinking quickly, Hawke knew that she wouldn’t be able to rely on her fire magic without hurting Jacob’s people. Instead she cast Gravatic Ring and slowed the boar enough to interpose herself between it and the servants. She saw the confusion dawn on the creature’s face, but it continued its charge.   


Hawke whirled her staff around so that the half-moon shaped blade affixed to the bottom was facing the boar and jabbed forward, striking a blow to its front leg and shoulder. The pig stumbled and went down screaming, struggling to get back to its feet. Curling her lip, Hawke cast Fist of the Maker, sending the boar flying back into the trunk of a tree. It hit with a sickening crunch and crumpled to the ground. It’s wild eyes were still wide open and its legs jerked as it fought to try and regain its feet.   


“Finish it,” Hawke ordered the servants as she turned back to where August lay. She noticed that Mazin had traded places with Iona and was holding a bow much shorter than the ones she was accustomed to seeing around the Free Marches. He drew an arrow with a snarl and fired at the boar, sending the arrow through the creature’s eye in an instant. He swore in a language she didn’t recognize and turned back to August, dropping to his knees.   


“It is dead, August,” he said quietly, brushing the other man’s hair out of his eyes. August let out a little moan and clutched at the shirt on his belly. Mazin glanced at Hawke. “Messere, I thank you for slaying the beast. But my-but August needs a healer.”  


“I know,” Hawke said gently, kneeling down next to them both. “I am going to do what I can. Dylan is on his way with the pony cart.” She jerked her head towards the crumbling stones that indicated the well. “I need some water and wood for a fire.” She cast Healing Aura about herself and cleaned her hands, steadying herself to manage the terrible wound.  


Mazin, Iona, and the other servants were quick to comply and soon one of the buckets that had been previously used to hold their gathered mushrooms was sitting on the fire bubbling gently.   


“Hold him down,” Hawke said. “I’m going to clean the wound.” She took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. The sight of August’s wound was bringing back horrible memories of her night battling the Arishok. She looked up at Mazin and Iona. “This is going to hurt,” she said quietly. “A lot. Just...be prepared.”   


The young man and woman nodded and with that, Hawke took some of the warmed water from the bucket and began to clean out the wound. August bucked and screamed and several of the other servants had to grab hold of his legs and arms to keep him from thrashing.   


“Hawke?” in the distance she heard Varric’s voice sounding worried.  


“Bring them here,” she ordered Iona.   


Iona nodded and sprinted off and before long Varric, Dylan, and the pony cart returned with her.   


“How’s the kid?” Varric asked.  


“We need to get him inside,” Hawke said. “He’s getting too cold. Just let me finish up here.” She took a length of someone’s cloak that had been boiled over the fire and applied it to the open wound once it had cooled slightly, then bound the whole thing in place with a few boiled sleeves. She washed her hands and rose to her feet.   


“Let’s get him into the cart,” she said. “Gentle as you can.”  


Once August was up in the cart, Mazin leapt up and tenderly put August’s head into his lap. The look on his face told Hawke right away that he would only be removed with force and she gave him a little nod before settling down next to him with her hands over August’s middle. She heard the clinking of potion bottles and felt Varric’s reassuring warmth settle down next to her. He handed her a healing potion and she tipped it into August’s mouth as the cart lurched away.  


“Can’t you just…” Mazin waved his hands in the air.  


Hawke gave him a tired smile. “I intend to,” she said gently. “But he’s badly hurt, Mazin. And I don’t have enough magic to handle all of the things at play that could kill him right now. If there were a team of us, well, it would be different. But the potion can help keep the wound from souring, as well as heal some of the other places he’s bleeding.” She swallowed hard as suddenly her senses filled with the smell of smoke and blood.   


“Will he live?” Mazin asked softly.  


“If I can help it,” Hawke said firmly, forcing the memories out of her head. “But I can’t promise more than that I will do my best.”  


The young man’s lip wobbled slightly but he nodded and the three of them lapsed into silence while Hawke began to do a little gentle healing work. She kept her eye on the makeshift bandage around August’s middle, watching for more blood as she managed to close one of the gashes from the boar’s hooves on August’s thigh. The next time she looked up they were rolling across the drawbridge.   


Jacob was at the door to the castle with a sturdy looking woman wearing an apron who Hawke recognized as the cook, Mrs. Rush.  


“August!” the woman exclaimed as they rolled to a stop in front of the door. “Oh, Mazin, what happened my son?”  


“That’s not important right now,” Hawke said as gently as she could. “We need to get him somewhere warm so that I can heal him.”  


Jacob’s eyes widened and Mrs. Rush whipped around to look at her. “You?” she said, sounding skeptical.  


Hawke gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile and nodded. Together they made their way into the castle and across the great hall. They took a little staircase down past the kitchens to a cheerful set of well-lit, warm rooms.   


“My room’s got the best light,” Mrs. Rush said, gesturing to the left. Inside the small, whitewashed room there was a merry fire burning. They lay August down on the bed and Hawke washed her hands in a steaming bowl of water that Neriel provided.  


“I only need two people with me,” Hawke said, not looking up as she began to peel away her makeshift bandage. Next to her Varric had pulled up a table and was laying out supplies on it. “And one of them is going to be Varric. He’s been through this before.” She glanced up and saw the look that passed between Mrs. Rush and Mazin.   


“I know that you love my daft, brave son,” Mrs. Rush said, her voice gentle but firm. “But ‘twas I that brought him into this world. If he’s to leave it today,” her voice broke as her eyes grew shiny. “It’ll be with me at his side.”  


Mazin reached out and the two clasped hands for a moment before he nodded. “I shall make his room ready,” he said. “For his recovery.” He leaned down and whispered something to August before brushing his lips over the other young man’s forehead. Then he rose, squaring his shoulders, and strode from the room.   


“Are you going to be all right?” Jacob asked. “Can I help?”  


Hawke shook her head and though Jacob looked worried, he nodded in acknowledgment and left, closing the door behind himself. Hawke took a deep breath and then began to work. It was slow going. During their ride back to the castle she had noticed several fractures that would need attention once the gaping wound had been handled. She was in for many, many hours of healing.  


She handled the abdominal wound first, forcing herself to recall every conversation she’d had with Anders about her own healing many months prior. Every time August whimpered or groaned with pain she was abruptly back in her own bed, feeling herself torn between the worlds of the living and the dead. But Anders had saved her. And she wanted to save this young man, so she kept going.   


Soon there was a pile of empty lyrium potion bottles next to her and her veins were beginning to hum. She knew that she was taking too much and that she would pay for it, but it didn’t matter because slowly, so very slowly, she was seeing progress. August’s intestines were back where they were supposed to be and though she wasn’t a blood mage able to detect impurities like Merril, she was pretty sure that she’d kept the wound from becoming horrifically infected.   


She held her hand out to Varric and could feel the concern emanating off of the dwarf. “Hawke, you’ve been at this for hours. Maybe you should take a break.” he asked quietly.  


She shook her head. Being elbow deep in August’s insides recalled too vividly the place between worlds for her. She could feel the young man’s spirit wavering as he fled the pain he was in, while simultaneously trying to return to his mother’s voice. “If I stop, he’ll die,” she said and winced at Mrs. Rush's quiet sob. “He’s in a lot of pain and he wants it to stop, one way or another.” She met Varric’s eyes. “He’ll go where there’s no more pain if I let him, Varric.”  


She saw the understanding dawn on her friend and after a brief hesitation, he handed her another lyrium potion. “Just don’t you follow him,” Varric said quietly, but firmly.   


Hawke nodded and returned to work. Her skin was starting to ache, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered except her task. She slowly convinced the layers of muscle and flesh to reunite, pouring her energy into her work until she saw the end in sight. With the help of a final lyrium potion, Hawke convinced the wound to close fully, leaving August with what would be a scar to rival her own. Her hands shook as she extended them over his body, but she was gratified to see that the ambient magic of her Healing Aura had been working alongside her to manage the less dire broken bones, lacerations, and bruises.  


“Fuck me,” Hawke breathed, letting her hands fall to her lap.  


Mrs. Rush looked at her, the exhaustion on her face giving way to hope. “Is he...will he…?”  


“He needs to rest,” Hawke said with a tired smile. “Healing potion every, oh, three hours, I’d said, but I think that he’s going to make a full recovery.”  


“Oh, Blessed Andraste, oh my lady, thank you!” Mrs. Rush enveloped her in a hug that smelled of flour and rosemary. She pulled back and dabbed at her eyes with her apron. “I-I’ll ask the master to pay you out of my wages my lady, I-”  


“That won’t be necessary,” Hawke said firmly, giving the other woman a tired smile. “The only recompense I ask is that you help me stand,” she said with a chuckle.   


Mrs. Rush leapt to her feet and gently helped Hawke stand before embracing her again. Much to Hawke’s surprise, the older woman gave her a peck on each cheek before clasping her shoulders. “Your mother must be so proud,” she said with feeling.  


Hawke felt her throat close up as she struggled to keep the tears at bay. Varric’s arm went around her waist as he steadied her.   


“I think we should put the Champion to bed,” Varric said gently. “And let the others know that August is all right.”  


“Of course, of course!” Mrs. Rush said, hurrying to open the door for them. Out in the main kitchen area Jacob, Mazin, and Neriel jumped to their feet as the door opened.  


“He’s going to be all right,” Mrs. Rush said, smiling. “The Champion has saved him!”  


Mazin crossed to her and the two embraced fiercely for a long moment. “Can I go sit with him?” Mazin asked, looking back and forth between Hawke and Mrs. Rush.   


Mrs. Rush glanced at her anxiously and Hawke nodded. “Thank you, Champion!” Mazin said, embracing Hawke as tightly as he had Mrs. Rush. “Expect an invitation to the wedding!” His dark eyes were shining as he sketched a quick bow and then hurried away, his handsome face lit up with a smile.   


Hawke swayed on her feet and felt Varric’s arm tighten around her waist. “You need to lie down, Hawke,” he said.   


Hawke hadn’t meant to agree quite so dramatically, but suddenly she was unable to stand anymore. The world around her suddenly spun and then...nothing.

****  


Fenris glared down into his glass, ignoring the sounds of the Hanged Man. It was late and Hawke wasn’t home yet. He had been watching for the Count’s carriage to return once the sun had started to set, but when the chantry bell tolled midnight, he’d given up. He knew that it was none of his business. He knew that Varric would give him an earful if he knew that each time they went to visit Count Durand, Fenris watched for their return. It was pathetic and he knew it.  


“You look ready to murder your wine,” Isabela said from behind him.  


Fenris grunted.  


He heard Isabela sigh and then she moved into his field of vision, sitting down across from him. “What’s wrong?” she asked.  


Fenris shook his head, ashamed.  


“Ah,” Isabela said in a tone that was entirely too knowing. “Is Hawke at Jacob’s still?”  


He shrugged.  


“I’m sorry,” Isabela said, the usual teasing tone absent from her voice. “I know that you and she...well...but you can’t expect her to just...be on a shelf forever, Fenris. It’s been over a year since you two...” she trailed off, her brows knitting together. She gave a helpless little shrug and took a drink from her flagon.  


“I do not expect anything from Hawke,” he said a little more harshly than he intended. “I have no claim to her, as I well know.”  


“Fenris, why don’t you _fight_ for her?” Isabela said after a moment of silence. “Noble sacrifice is all well and good, but if you want her, go, throw her over your shoulder and carry her off!”  


“It is not that simple,” Fenris said.  


“Look,” Isabela said, her dark eyes devoid of their usual mirth. “I don’t do this...feeling stuff, but even I know that you love her and she loves you right back,” Isabela said. “I don’t see how it gets more simple than that.”  


Fenris felt his heart leap up into his throat at the pirate captain’s words, but he throttled the feeling down. “I cannot be the man that she needs,” he said bitterly. “Or the one that she deserves.” She looked like she was about to reply, but Fenris forestalled her by standing up abruptly. “I know that you are trying to help,” he forced himself to say. “But please just...leave it. Goodnight, Isabela.” With that he hurried from the Hanged Man and out into the rain. He trudged home, scarcely feeling the rain, and winced at how the door echoed when he shut it behind himself. Since Hawke didn’t come around anymore the whole place felt more cavernous than ever. He grabbed several bottles from the wine cellar and made his way to his room to change out of his wet clothes. When he was dry, he plopped down in front of Hawke’s fire and stared into the flames.  


_She loves you_. Isabela had said it in the present tense. But even if it were true, what could he do? He was broken. He rested his forearms on his knees and put his forehead against them, his hand clasped around the scarf he wore at his wrist. He remembered her touch so vividly. What it felt like to feel her beneath him. What it was like to kiss her.  


_Was Jacob kissing her now?_ The treacherous voice in his head wondered. _Was he lying with her, giving her pleasure with his hands and mouth? Was he taking her gently, or perhaps roughly, making her moan like you know she can? Was he fucking her up against the wall of his great castle, filling her-_  


He heard a pathetic little sob that he realized had come from him as he clutched his head, wishing desperately for her gentle fingers in his hair. What good did it do to think of those things? If she chose Jacob, he would be happy for her. He had heard nothing but good about the man and she deserved every ounce of happiness that she could eke out of this miserable world. He would die before he’d ever let her see how much the thought of another man touching her shredded the already broken pieces of his heart. He would be the friend to her that she deserved as he was unable to be the partner that she did. Even if it killed him. Most nights his sadness would have had him attacking his practice dummy, but that night, that night all he wanted was a drink. He picked up one of the bottles he had brought up and perched himself by the window where he could see Hawke’s house. He didn’t know why he was torturing himself. But he couldn’t look away.  


It was well past dawn before there was any activity, and by then Fenris had consumed two of the three bottles that he brought up with him. He saw the Count’s carriage roll up and saw an attractive elvish woman hop down and knock on the door. Bodahn spoke to her for a minute and then let her in and a few minutes later she reappeared with a bundle of Hawke’s clothing.   


Fenris stumbled away from the window, struggling to tamp down the feeling of nausea. That was it then. If she’d needed a change of clothes, that could only mean that…  


He collapsed against the wall and slid down, clenching his eyes shut. But as soon as he did he saw Hawke as she had been that night, naked and lovely. But it wasn’t his hands touching her. It was another man. He could feel his throat burning as he struggled to dispel the vision. He had no right to feel any kind of way about it, but the surge of misery and rage were so powerful that they threatened to choke him. _I’ve truly lost her_ , he thought miserably. It took him a few minutes, but he finally was able to stand and go get the third bottle. He plopped down in front of Hawke’s fire and took a long drink. _I have no right to be upset_ , he chided himself. But as he looked down at her scarf around his wrist and felt the familiar sensation of his throat clenching shut, he knew that he had long ago passed upset. He was heartbroken and the worst of it was that it was his own fault. _It is I who spoil what I touch_.


	13. Dinner, Discussions, and Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Jacob talk following her exhausting healing and begin to explore what it might look like to be involved. Fenris struggles with his jealousy, only to discover that he is perhaps a bigger person than he thought.

“Andraste’s great flaming knickers!” Hawke groaned as the sunlight seemed to pierce her eyes.   


“Good morning to you too, Sweetheart,” said Varric’s sleepy voice.   


She forced her eyes open and saw her friend stretched out on the sofa in her room. “Just kill me, Varric,” she groaned, slinging her arm over her eyes. She jerked it away immediately at the smell of copper, suddenly wide awake. “Oh, Maker,” she breathed, looking down at herself. She was covered in blood and gore.   


“Neriel made sure they were drawing you a bath before she went back to the estate to get you some clothes,” Varric said. “I gave her a note for Orana and Bodahn. In the meantime, Jacob left you some things to change into.” He jerked his head towards a door in far wall. “Do you need help?”  


“Just standing,” Hawke replied. She groaned when Varric helped her to her feet. Every last inch of her body hurt something terrible. She felt feverish, her bones and joints ached, and her skin hurt. Her head felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds and her hands shook like an old woman.   


“You pushed yourself too hard,” Varric said sternly. She shrugged and heard him let out a soft growl. “Damn it, Saoirse, look at me.”  


She forced herself to meet his eyes and saw how drawn and worried he looked. “You know that that many lyrium potions isn’t good for you. You know that tackling a wound like that all in one go is dangerous.” His eyes narrowed. “For someone who gets so uncomfortable with being called The Champion, you sure do put yourself in harms way a lot.”  


“He would have died,” she said.   


“Hawke-”  


“That’s an awful way to die, Varric,” she said, hearing the fear in her voice. “Trust me.”   


He blinked and then sighed her name and caught her in a tight hug. “Oh Sweetheart,” he said quietly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He helped her into the well-appointed wash room and stood with her while she sluiced the worst of the grime from her hands and forearms in a basin with warm, lavender scented water. Ever the gentleman, he turned his back while she undressed, but stayed within arms reach until she was ensconced in the massive claw-foot tub. “Will you be all right if I go get cleaned up myself?” he asked.  


“You should go rest,” she said, nodding. “And Varric? I-I’m not sorry that I did what I did, but I’m sorry for scaring you. I love you.”  


He sighed. “I love you too, Hawke,” he said quietly. “Just...try not to get into any trouble for the next few hours, all right?”  


“No promises,” she teased and was rewarded by a little chuff of laughter from him. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the tub, luxuriating in the hot, soapy water. She must have fallen asleep, because the sun had made distinct progress across the sky the next time she woke up. She heard a knock at the washroom door.  


“My lady?” Neriel said. “I’ve got your clothes and some supper, if you’ve a mind.”  


Hawke rose with a wince, but was pleased to note that at least the extra sleep had made her slightly steadier on her feet. She dried off and then wrapped a towel around herself and went into the bedroom. Neriel was just finishing laying clothes out on the bed which had been stripped and fitted with clean sheets.   


“I’ve got some of your things,” Neriel said shyly. “Orana was very kind and picked out some things that she said you favor when you’re feeling unwell.” She gave a little smile. “She’s a lovely woman. She cares about you a great deal.”  


Hawke smiled. “I’m lucky to have her,” she said. “And I’m grateful, Neriel. Thank you for bringing me clean clothes.”  


“Thank you, my lady,” Neriel said seriously. “For what you did for the other servants, for August and Mrs. Rush.” She chuckled. “I hope you like wild boar, I know Mrs. Rush is planning to send some home with you. I made sure to ask for a bone for Copper. He's a very good boy.”  


Hawke grinned at her. “How is August?”  


“Hungry,” Neriel said wryly. “The boy will likely eat a quarter of that boar himself if we let him. But I should let you dress. His lordship did ask if you’d like company for your supper.”  


Hawke nodded. “That’d be nice, Neriel, thank you. Will Varric be joining us?”  


“Master Tethras fell asleep after his luncheon,” Neriel said with a smile. “I promise we’ll make sure he has something to eat when he wakes.”  


“Thank you,” Hawke said. “Please ask Jacob to give me a few minutes, but then I’d enjoy his company.”  


Neriel nodded and turned to leave, but hesitated. “My lady Hawke, I just wanted to say...ma serranas. From all of us. It was a good thing that you did, and we’re grateful.”  


“Lasa helani,” Hawke said, stumbling a bit as she struggled to remember the phrases that Merril had taught her.   


Neriel’s eyes widened a bit, and she dipped into a brief bow before hurrying from the room.   


Hawke picked up the clothes Orana had sent and felt a wash of gratitude. Orana knew her so well. She’d sent the softest smallclothes and breast band, as well as a pair of worn, light linen trousers. The shirt she sent was one of Varric’s that Hawke had shamelessly stolen. It was loose on her, and also incredibly soft. She resolved to increase Orana’s pay and was just about to sit down at the table where tempting smells were coming off of a large tray when there was a knock on the door.  


“Come in,” she said, plopping down in one of the well-cushioned chairs.   


Jacob opened the door and walked in, carrying a bottle of antivan wine. “Varric said that under no circumstances was I to let you have any whisky until you’ve had at least another full night of sleep,” he said with a wry smile.  


“He worries,” Hawke said, gesturing for Jacob to join her.  


“It is clear how dear you are to him,” Jacob said with a smile, sitting down next to her and pouring wine for them both. “I cannot blame him for his devotion.”  


Hawke blushed. “I’m lucky to have him,” she said quietly.  


“I’m sure that he’d say the same,” Jacob said. He raised his glass. “Speaking of which--a toast to you, Saoirse. Your quick action and generous spirit saved a well-loved member of my household and ensured that his mother doesn’t have to bury another member of her family.”  


Hawke’s blush deepened and she briefly touched her glass to his before taking a sip of her wine. It was crisp and a little acidic. “I was glad to do it, Jacob,” she said.   


Jacob removed the cover of the tray and began to serve them, and she noticed that he gave her the choice bits of everything. “From what I understand from Varric, there was not a little danger to you last night, Saoirse.”  


She shifted uncomfortably, promising herself that she would have words with the talkative dwarf later. “There’s always a risk when healing,” she prevaricated, taking a bite of one of Mrs. Rush’s excellent meat pies.  


Jacob raised an eyebrow. “You’re dodging the question.”  


“You didn’t ask me anything,” she said, annoyed at how petulant she sounded.   


“Very well,” Jacob said calmly. “Exactly how much danger did you put yourself in? Not including the boar, which Mazin was kind enough to tell me about in great detail.”  


Hawke sighed and set down her fork. “That kind of healing should have been done by a team,” she said, too exhausted to lie. “It’s not advisable to do something like that alone. You get sucked into it and it’s too easy to pour too much of your life into another person. Nevermind the side-effects of taking all that lyrium at once.” She winced, thinking of how hard she’d thrown up.   


“So you could have died,” Jacob said quietly. “Trying to save him.”  


She shrugged. “He would have died if I’d done nothing. And that’s an awful way to die,” she said with a shiver. “Trust me.”  


“Oh my own darling,” Jacob breathed, his intelligent eyes meeting hers. She flushed at the endearment. “I believe I understand. I imagine were I to encounter someone who had been mauled by an ogre I would feel similarly.”   


Hawke nodded, grateful that he understood.   


“You are brave to practice your magic so openly,” he said after a few minutes of companionable silence as they ate.   


She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re too rich to need the bounty from turning in mages,” she said, then flinched at her rudeness.  


To her relief, Jacob let out a snort of laughter. “I should like to see the Templars try to take you from _my_ fucking castle,” he said. “If my walls don’t stop them, my people will. I think Neriel is halfway to giving you your own vallaslin.”

Hawke blushed. “They are kind,” she said. “As are you.”  


Jacob shook his head and set down his fork, reaching out to take her hand. “I want you to know that I am grateful, Saoirse,” he said quietly. “That you would take such a risk for one of my people, there is no greater honor you could do to me.” He threaded his fingers through hers, his dark eyes intense. “I hope very much to be able to repay your kindness one day.”  


She squeezed his hand, smiling at him. “That won’t be necessary,” she assured him before sitting back, releasing his fingers.  


“We shall see,” he replied with a little quirk of his lips. They finished their meal, and, still chatting easily about Althuriel, retired to the couch by her fire. There, Jacob poured another glass of wine, but hesitated as he sat down.   


“What is it?” Hawke asked, looking up at him.   


He sat down close to her on the couch and looked into her eyes. “I...am glad that you are here, Saoirse,” he said quietly. “The castle has felt...warmer since you started visiting me. I hope that you know that our friendship means a great deal to me, but I must be completely honest with you.” He reached out and took one of her hands, bringing it to his lips. “The truth, Saoirse, is that my feelings for you have gone past simple friendship. In fact,” his dark eyes searched her face. “In fact, I would very much like to kiss you now, if you’ll allow it.”  


Her heart leapt up into her throat, pounding wildly. But wasn’t that what she was supposed to do? Move on? Jacob was someone she genuinely liked, whose friendship had come to mean a great deal to her. And he wasn’t asking her to marry him or anything, just for a kiss. Wordlessly, she nodded and saw his lips curl into a warm smile. He leaned in and slid one arm around her waist, cupping her cheek with the other hand as he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was exactly like him – confident, composed, and by every metric that she’d ever thought of, perfect. There was nothing tentative about the way that his lips moved against hers or how his strong hands held her to him. He brushed her lips with his tongue, inviting her to deepen the kiss, and when she did so hesitantly he seemed to sense her reticence and hadn't pressed his advantage. Instead he pulled back, his thumb brushing over her cheek.  


“My own darling,” he said quietly. He gave a little chuckle. “I fear that I’ve made a terrible mistake,” he said wryly.  


Hawke blinked, her heart racing. “I-what do you mean?” She almost gasped when she met his eyes again. His pupils had filled his normally warm brown eyes, turning them almost black.  


“Because now that I know what it is like to kiss you,” his voice husky, “it is all I want to do,” he said. He kissed her again, more deeply this time, his hands stroking up and down her back. They were both breathing hard when he pulled back with obvious reluctance. “Perhaps not _all_ I want to do,” he said softly. “But certainly all I _will_ do tonight.”   


She gasped quietly, caught off-guard, and noted what she thought was a brief flare of satisfaction in his eyes.   


“It cannot be so shocking to know that you are wanted,” he said quietly, his fingertips stroking in slow circles on her back. “You are beautiful, Saoirse, and brave, and clever,” he leaned his forehead against hers. “You are eminently desirable,” he said in a quiet growl and to her shock, it made her shiver.  


“Jacob,” she whispered, her mind whirling. The way he was talking to her, she could feel herself responding to it and that made her feel so strange. She’d never expected to feel anything like that again. Was this the passion she’d opined about to Varric? Did she want it to be?  


“What is it, Darling?” he asked, pulling back and taking one of her hands. “Am I moving too quickly? Is there...is there someone else?”  


Hawke sighed and scrubbed her free hand through her hair. She couldn’t lie to him. “There was,” she said after a moment. “But we aren’t together anymore. We haven’t been in over a year. But things between us...when they got physical...it broke us.” Suddenly she was back in her bed, watching Fenris walk away and leave. She shook her head, unable to meet Jacob’s eyes. “My feelings about him are...complicated,” she finished lamely.   


“Does this make you feel guilty?” he asked, gesturing between the two of them.  


She blinked and then frowned at him. “Yes,” she said simply.   


He nodded. “Me too,” he said quietly. “If I am honest, the vast majority of my thoughts about you have made me feel guilty and...disloyal? I suppose.”  


“To Granuaile,” Hawke said, understanding.  


He nodded. “But I know that she’d want me to be happy. She would not want me to live my life out alone in my great castle.” He looked at her. “Would your person...would they feel the same?”  


“Yes,” she replied immediately. She knew that to be true. But she also knew that no matter how hard Fenris tried, it would hurt him to see her with Jacob. And there was the rub, really. She knew that he still occupied a massive portion of her heart. She wasn’t sure there was room for someone else.  


“Did they hurt you?” Jacob asked gently. “Or was the end of your relationship a mutual one?”  


Hawke swallowed hard, shamed by how quickly her eyes filled with tears. “He hurt me,” she said before she could stop herself, finally admitting just how true it was to herself. She had focused on keeping Fenris from running off and doing something stupid. And on keeping Varric from putting a bolt through Fenris somewhere sensitive. But the truth of it was...he’d broken her heart in a way that she wasn’t sure she’d ever recover from. How could she be the same after how he left things? The thought sparked a flash of anger in her and she jerked her head up to look at Jacob through her tears. She caught a glimpse of something much darker and more dangerous than she’d ever seen in his eyes before he schooled his expression into something a little more neutral.   


“Then more the fool him,” Jacob growled. He pulled her into his arms again, not kissing her, but embracing her tightly. His body felt so solid against her, his arms felt so strong, that Hawke felt something in her crack open just a little. She pulled back and looked into his eyes. This time it was she who kissed him. Her kiss was considerably more hesitant than his had been, and while his hands tightened on her back, he let her set the pace. She felt the familiar flutter of guilt in her belly, but ignored it. She was tired of feeling lost and broken. She wanted to feel like a whole person again. He groaned into the kiss, then pulled back and looked into her eyes. “Saoirse,” he rasped. He took a deep breath. “I meant it when I said that I wouldn’t go further than this with you tonight.” He smiled at her, but it was a feral one. “But I hope that you can feel how much I want to.”  


She swallowed hard and nodded, her heart racing.  


He dipped his head and kissed her gently, then rose and cupped her cheek. “You should rest,” he said warmly. “I will see you in the morning, if it pleases you.”  


“It does,” she said, suppressing the yawn that seemed to have come from nowhere. “Jacob?”  


“What is it, darling?” he asked.   


“Thank you,” she said quietly.   


He smiled at her and it took almost a decade off of his face. He bowed deeply and rose, still smiling. “It is my great pleasure, Saoirse,” he said. “Goodnight.”

****

Fenris bared his teeth at Aveline and swung his sword at her head, snarling as she easily parried him and dodged out of the way.  


“You’re distracted,” the guard captain said, circling around and jabbing at his side with her longsword.  


He batted it out of the way and swore as she struck him with her shield, knocking him on his ass.  


“That’s the third time this morning,” she chastised. “Where is your head, Fenris?”  


In the grand bedchamber of the castle, he thought bitterly. He shook his head and rose, sheathing his blade. “I am wasting your time,” he said. “I am sorry.”  


But Aveline stepped into his path, sheathing her longsword. “Talk to me,” she said. “Something is troubling you.”  


He tried to smile at her. She was a kind woman. A friend. But the last thing he wanted to do was give voice to his thoughts. “I stayed out too late with Isabela,” he said. It was a partial truth at least. “I am merely tired. Perhaps we could try again another day.” He could tell from her guileless face that she was not convinced, but she let it go.  


He hurried away from the guard compound and towards his mansion, trying to think of things he could do to take his mind off of what might or might not be happening at Count Durand’s home. He was so intent on not thinking about Hawke and the count that it took him a fraction of a second too long to realize that the count’s carriage was parked in front of Hawke’s estate and a man with the Durand livery was handing Hawke down out of the carriage.  


Fenris frowned. She was dressed the way that she did when she’d been ill, wearing one of Varric’s shirts and a pair of soft linen pants. That was odd and certainly not what he would have expected after the previous night. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she clapped the carriage driver on the shoulder as heartily as any farmer’s daughter. The man grinned back and leapt back up to his perch. He drove the carriage around to the back of Hawke’s estate where the stableyard was and Fenris should have chosen that moment to retreat into his house. But he was poleaxed by the sight of her and when she glanced over, she saw him.  


His heart began to pound as he saw her hesitate and then walk over to him with some determination in her stride. He took a moment to try and ground himself as an awful maelstrom of emotions threatened to claim him. His oldest companion, rage, wanted him to lash out at her. To demand to know where she had been. To know if the count had touched her, claimed her as his own. To shake her and tell her that she couldn’t allow anyone to touch her because she was _his_. He wanted to beg her to send him away so that he wouldn’t have to see her marry a man that she deserved. His heart ached to echo Isabela’s words and just tell her that he loved her and beg her to be patient with him and please take him back.  


By the time Hawke reached him, his mouth was dry. She smiled up at him tentatively. “Good morning, Fenris,” she said quietly.  


_How was it saying that to him?_ He thought, then chastised himself. “Good morning, Hawke,” he forced himself to say. It even sounded almost normal. “Late night?” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. She flinched and he ached to take her into his arms and apologize.  


“It’s been a weird few days,” she said after a moment, her golden eyes searching his. “One of Jacob’s servants, the cook’s boy, August...he was attacked by a wild boar while he and some of the other servants were gathering mushrooms. I spent the better part of the other night healing him and yesterday sleeping.”  


He knew that his eyes had gotten wide. He knew that it was shameful, but the relief he felt made him almost giddy. “You must be exhausted,” he said, trying to ignore how high his voice sounded.  


She nodded. “I am, but I’m glad I did it. August will be fine, I’ve got unlimited delicious pastries for life, and Jacob has promised that should I ever need shelter from the Templars, I have an extremely well-fortified place to find it.”  


Fenris couldn’t help but feel a rush of gratitude to the other man. It was one thing for him to say that he would protect Hawke from the Templars, but a castle...that was yet another thing he could not offer her. It hurt, but at the same time eased some of the vise-like grip that jealousy had on his heart. “I am glad that he values all aspects of you,” Fenris said, looking into her eyes so she would know that he meant it. “You deserve no less.”  


She blushed and glanced away and he stepped just a little closer to her. Her eyes widened when she looked back at him, but she did not move away. “I-I hope that things are well between us,” he said. “I have...missed you.”  


To his great dismay, her lips quivered just slightly and he saw her swallow hard. “I’ve missed you too, Fenris,” she said softly. “And we are fine...as long as you are.”  


He wanted to cup her cheek, to caress her and tell her that as long as she was in his life he would be all right, but instead he just nodded and said: “I am now.”  


She smiled at him and gave him a quick hug, and it took all his self-control not to clutch at her and refuse to let her go. As it was, he loosened his grip when she pulled away. “I should change,” she said. “I feel like I need to bathe for a week straight or so. See you at the Hanged Man later?” she asked uncertainly.  


“Yes,” he promised. She turned to go back to her estate and he caught her wrist before he knew what he was doing. “Hawke?”  


She looked up at him, the raw vulnerability on her face so intense that he could have wept. “Yes?” she asked.  


“I-I truly just want you to be happy,” he said softly before releasing her and hurrying inside his mansion. He put his back to the door and slid down to rest his head in his hands as the wild mix of emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He thanked the Maker and whoever else was listening that he hadn’t made too much of a mess of things between them. She missed him too. He shouldn’t be glad to hear it. He should want her to have forgotten all about him. But in his heart of hearts, it warmed him to know that he had been missed.  


“Fasta vass,” he said out loud, resting his head on the door. “You are hopeless.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you guys like Jacob and the OCs! I'm doing my best to make everyone feel like they _could have_ been a part of the games. I really like the idea of both Hawke and Fenris making a concerted effort to get over each other but finding it to be really difficult.


	14. Wine and Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob comes to Kirkwall for drinks with Hawke and her friends. His visit brings certain facts to light and makes Hawke wonder if there might actually be a future for the two of them.

_Darling,_

__

_I must come into Kirkwall to arrange a new shipping contact with Amaranthine and will likely be in town for a couple of days. While I am there, I thought it might be fun to meet some of your friends. Perhaps we could all have a drink? If this is a terrible idea, please tell me. I wouldn’t object to having you all to myself either._

__

_Your Faithful Servant,  
Jacob_

“Oh, shit,” Hawke said quietly.  


Varric looked up from his book, his brow furrowing. “What is it?”  


She glanced over at him. “Jacob is coming into town and wants to have drinks with everyone.”  


Varric let out a surprised chuckle. “Well, he’s a brave man.” The look he gave her was an understanding one. “Do you think you’re going to take him up on it?”  


Hawke hesitated and then nodded slowly. “I-I think that it would be good. I’d like to see how he gets on with everyone.” She took a deep breath. “I need to tell Fenris.”  


“Are you sure?” Varric asked, reaching out and taking her hand. “I can talk to him, if you want.”  


“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It has to be me.” She glanced at the window. Fenris would most likely be home. “Would you mind if I ran over there after I reply to Jacob?”  


“I’ll be here when you get back,” Varric said. “If you want me to be.”  


“You’re the best,” Hawke said, leaning down and giving him a quick hug. She hurried to her office where she quickly wrote a response and sent it along with Dylan. Then, she took a deep breath and walked across to Fenris’ mansion. Her hand shook as she raised it to knock, but she forced herself to do it. He deserved to hear it from her.

***

A knock on the door drew Fenris out of his book and he frowned. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He set the book down and hurried downstairs, his confusion growing. His friends generally just came in after they knocked. He opened the door and his heart leapt up into his throat at the sight of Hawke.  


“Fenris,” she said with a strained smile. “I’m glad I caught you.”  


Fenris inclined his head and stepped back, inviting her in. She hesitated for a moment, then followed him across the threshold. She shut the door behind herself and leaned against it and Fenris tried not to think about how it had felt kissing her against that door.  


“I need to talk to you about something,” she continued, not meeting his eyes.  


“Very well,” Fenris said, amazed at how steady his voice sounded. “Would you like a glass of wine? Or to sit down?”  


She shook her head and finally looked at him and he could see from the way her eyes were tight in the corners that she was anxious. “Fenris...I wanted to invite you to drinks at the Hanged Man tomorrow night.”  


He remained silent, sure that there was more to it. If it were just drinks, Varric would have come.  


She took a deep breath. “Jacob wants to meet all of you.”  


Her words hit him like a punch in the gut and though he tried to keep his expression neutral, he knew as soon as he forced himself to meet her golden eyes that she’d seen it and it had hurt her.  


“You don’t have to come,” she said softly, her voice sounding choked. “I-you’re just one of my best friends and I...it would…” she trailed off, looking down at the ground. He saw her swallow hard. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I feel like I’ve made an awful mistake. You don’t have to come. I just thought-” she shook her head and looked up into his eyes.  


The words bubbled up out of him before he could stop them. “You thought that I might enjoy meeting the man who is courting you?” Fenris asked and some vile, cruel part of him felt a flare of satisfaction at how she flinched. How could she possibly ask this of him? But the more rational part of his brain was clamoring for his attention. _You TOLD her to move on_ , it was saying. _You cannot then get angry at her for doing so_. Well, he _was_ angry, but he knew in his heart of hearts that it was mostly at himself.  


When he looked down Hawke’s eyes were flashing with thinly veiled anger of her own. “You’re right,” she gritted out. “This was stupid. I apologize for bothering you.” She turned away from him, but not before he saw the tears tracking down her face. She hesitated at the door. “You’re the one who left,” she said softly, and then she was gone.  


Fenris stared after her, his heart hammering in his chest for a few moments before he shook himself out of his reverie and trudged up to his room. It didn’t surprise him that within the hour his door banged open and he heard Varric’s heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Fenris got to his feet and waited. The door to his room flew open and the dwarf stood there, his nostrils flaring and his normally kind eyes furious.  


“Are you fucking kidding me?” Varric growled. He stomped across the room and shoved Fenris against the wall. Fenris didn’t react. There was nothing Varric could say to him that he hadn’t said to himself. He had been trying so hard to keep things between him and Hawke at least friendly. He owed her that. And in one brief moment of shock and anger, he had broken the fragile scaffolding of what they were rebuilding.  


“Answer me!” Varric demanded.  


“What do you want me to say?” Fenris asked tiredly. He hated the way Varric, his closest friend besides Hawke, was looking at him. It was a mixture of rage and disgust that hit him almost as hard as the pain on Hawke’s face had.  


“Why would you say that to her?” Varric asked, giving him a little shake by his collar. “You are the one who left her, Fenris! You said you wanted her to move on and be happy, and then you make her doubt the little piece of happiness that she’s finally found for herself? Is that how a friend acts?” He released Fenris’ collar and took a step back, shaking his head.  


“I-”  


“No, Fenris,” Varric said, his lip curling. “You know what? I have been patient with you. But I can’t even look at you right now.” He pointed a thick, blunt finger at Fenris’ face. “Find a way to fix this.” With that, he spun around and stomped out of the room.  


Fenris slid down the wall Varric had shoved him against and put his face in his hands. _What have I done?_

****

Hawke took a sip of her whisky and tried to quell the anxiety that pooled in her belly. She and Jacob were the first to arrive at the Hanged Man on her insistence, but over the past few minutes her friends had begun to trickle in. Varric was the first, wanting to give the two of them a little support. He’d returned to her estate after storming off to have words with Fenris, but he hadn’t said a word about what transpired between them. He sat across from Jacob in order to “give him a friendly face to look at”. Sebastian, ever punctual, had been the next to arrive. He was acting slightly more princely than chantry boy, and Hawke suppressed a smile as he shook Jacob’s hand, his intense blue eyes fixed on the older man.  


“I must thank you on behalf of the Chantry for your donations to those who were impacted by the invasion,” he said, his Starkhaven accent just a little thicker than usual.  


Jacob inclined his head. “How could I do any less than our Champion?” he asked with a smile. He raised an eyebrow. “Starkhaven? I don’t suppose that you could find me some Yalsi Island single-malt? It’s rather hard to find here.”  


Sebastian let out a surprised chuff of laughter and flushed. “I might have some...friends, from another life who could help you,” he said. “Provided your generosity to the Chantry were to continue.”  


“Of course,” Jacob laughed, clapping Sebastian on the shoulder. Sebastian grinned and sat down at the end of the bench, waving at the door where Aveline had entered with Donnic.  


Donnic shook Jacob’s hand and then stepped back for Aveline, who gave Jacob a long, appraising look. “Your Grace,” she said with a dip of her head.  


“Guard Captain,” Jacob replied. “You are a formidable woman. I am glad that Saoirse has you as a friend.”  


“Formidable is right,” Donnic said quietly, earning a snort from Varric.  


Aveline gave him a look, but the corners of her lips were twitching upwards. “It is good of you to come all this way to meet us,” she said, taking a seat on the other side of Jacob. Donnic sat on the other side of her with his arm around her waist.  


“You are the most important people in Saoirse’s life,” Jacob said simply. “How could I not? I am only sorry it took so long.”  


“Better late than never,” Aveline said, glancing at Hawke.  


The six of them chatted for a little while before Anders hurried in, looking frazzled. “Mittens had another litter,” he said, plopping down at the table. “I’ve managed to convince her to stay in the clinic, but I don’t know for how long. I don’t want this litter to get eaten by refugees.” He looked up, apparently only just noticing Jacob. “Oh that’s right,” he said, blinking. He held out his hand, though his eyes were guarded. “Count Durand, nice to meet you. I’m Anders.”  


“Jacob, please, it’s good to meet you, Anders,” Jacob said, giving Anders' hand a hearty shake across the table. “And is Mittens a cat?”  


Anders sighed and gratefully accepted the ale from Donnic. “Yes,” he said. “And she looks just like my old cat Ser Pounce-A-Lot.”  


Hawke saw Jacob’s eyebrow go up at the name, but when he spoke he gave no indication he found it amusing. “We could always use more mousers at my holdings,” Jacob said with a kind smile. “If you could be persuaded to part with some of the litter when they are old enough. My smith’s little girl would be over the moon.”  


“Do you mean it?” Anders asked, lighting up.  


“I do,” Jacob said. “There are always mice in the stables, and they would be very safe.”  


“Oh, that’s very kind,” said Merril, sliding into the seat next to Varric. Hawke jumped, she hadn’t even noticed her arrive. “You were so worried, Anders.”  


“An’daran Atish’an,” Jacob said, inclining his head at Merril.  


“Enaste,” Merril replied with a little smile. “Your accent is awful though.”  


Hawke had to giggle. Merril had said the same to her many times.  


Jacob placed his hand over his heart with an exaggerated wince and Merril’s lovely eyes widened.  


“Oh dear, I suppose that isn’t very polite of me,” she said with consternation.  


“I would rather you be honest than polite,” Jacob said, giving her a reassuring smile.  


“My kind of man!”  


Hawke laughed and returned Isabela’s hug as she plopped down next to her.  


“Hello, Jacob!” Isabela said brightly. “First round’s on you, right?”  


“It would be my pleasure, Captain,” Jacob said with a chuckle.  


“Oh, he’s very good,” Isabela said as Jacob rose to get them another round. “How’s it going?” she whispered to Hawke once Jacob had walked away from the table.  


Hawke gave her a tentative smile. “Well, I think.”  


Isabela hugged her around the waist and made appreciative noises when Jacob brought over a tray of whisky for them all. They toasted together and then settled into relatively easy conversation. 

Jacob asked Aveline and Donnic about the wedding and listened closely as they excitedly shared their plans and their hopes for a trip to Rivain sometime afterwards.  


“Of course,” Donnic said with a loving look at Aveline, “in order to go my fiancee has to put Kirkwall in someone else's hands for a few weeks.”  


“You cannot blame her for her caution,” said a familiar voice that made Hawke’s heart start to pound. “We do have a certain...skill at getting into trouble.”  


The rest of the table had lapsed into awkward silence and Hawke took a deep breath and looked up, meeting Fenris’ eyes. He gave her an apologetic smile and held up two bottles of wine.  


“Please forgive...my tardiness,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. She knew that he was apologizing for more than that and after a brief hesitation, gave him a tentative smile. “I had thought that some Ferelden wine would be appropriate for the occasion.”  


Hawke’s eyes widened when she saw the bottles. They were from a vineyard on the shores of Lake Calenhad that had surely been destroyed in the Blight. They would have cost quite a bit while the vineyard was still in existence; she could have only imagined what they cost now.  


“Maker’s Breath,” Jacob said, taking one of the bottles and cradling it, his eyes wide. “This is from Wine Dark Waters! It has been...a lifetime since I’ve seen any of this.” He rose and held out his hand to Fenris, the look on his face one of genuine appreciation. “It was my wife’s favorite,” he said quietly. “You do not know what a gift you have given me today.”  


Fenris blushed to his ears, but after a moment’s hesitation, shook Jacob’s hand. “I will admit, I am no connoisseur,” he said, sitting down on the other side of Varric. “I knew only that it was Ferelden.”  


“You must tell me how I can repay you, Fenris!” Jacob said, his gaze fixed on the bottle.  


Hawke was glad that he wasn’t looking, because she saw the way Fenris’ eyes flickered towards her and then away again.  


“Truly, there is no need,” Fenris said with a smile that Hawke knew to be forced. “I merely thought that it would be a nice change from the Hanged Man’s whisky and a good way to mark an...auspicious occasion.” He cocked his head at Jacob as he accepted a drink from Varric. “How did you know my name?”  


“You were with Saoirse the night she battled the Arishok,” Jacob said as he unstoppered the wine and inhaled deeply. “Along with Aveline and Varric. It was a...memorable occasion.” He smiled at Fenris. “I must thank you three for your role in saving all of us,” he said, beginning to pour wine for them all. He raised a glass. “To friends who give us the strength to do the impossible,” he said.  


Together they toasted and though it took a little while for the mood to relax following Fenris’ arrival, things did eventually. Hawke was pleased and a little amazed to see that Jacob was able to give as good as he got when he was teased by Isabela, or put on the spot by Aveline. Fenris spoke very little, but was unfailingly polite every time Jacob spoke to him. He was assiduously avoiding looking at her for the most part, which made her ache, but she could hardly complain. He could have avoided the gathering all together, or arrived and been confrontational. Instead he was the soul of grace, even managing the occasional smile.  


It was, all in all, a pleasant evening and she was actually a little sorry when Sebastian rose, citing early morning devotions. The rest of the group began to trickle out after that until it was only her, Jacob, Fenris, Varric, and Isabela.  


“Another round?” Isabela said hopefully.  


“While I hate to cut short such an enjoyable evening, I am afraid that I am not so young as the rest of you,” Jacob said with a chuckle. “And I have an early morning ahead.” He glanced at Hawke with a warm smile. “I wouldn’t dream of cutting short your good time though, Darling. I’m sure Bodahn or Orana will let me in if you want to stay.”  


Hawke swore inwardly, because not only did she catch the subtle shift in Fenris’ expression, she suspected that Jacob had as well.  


“I’m not going to make you walk back alone,” she said with false brightness, standing up with him. She could only do more harm if she stayed, she knew that from the rigidity in Fenris’ shoulders. 

“Thank you all for coming,” she said, trying desperately to meet the elf’s eyes. Fenris looked up at her for the briefest of moments and his lips curled into a sad simulacrum of a smile.  


Normally she would have hugged Isabela and Varric goodnight, but it would have looked strange for her to hug them and not Fenris, so she didn’t. Instead she accepted Jacob’s elbow and let him lead her out of the Hanged Man, trying not to feel Fenris’ gaze on her back.

****

“Fenris?”  


Fenris stared into his wine glass, not trusting himself to speak. He was utterly exhausted after an evening of carefully cultivated civility. It had been the right thing to do, he knew that. And he knew from how Varric had looked at him that he’d succeeded in “fixing it”. But it didn’t feel fixed. Jacob was going home with Hawke and here he was with his stupid expensive wine and a broken heart.  


“Fasta vass!” he snarled, knocking the glass away from himself. It spilled out on the table and dripped through the slats, as thick and red as blood.  


“Oh Fenris,” Isabela said gently. She rested her hand on his shoulder and he was so heartbroken and exhausted that he couldn’t even bring himself to shrug her off.  


“You did good, Broody,” Varric said, sliding a glass of whisky in front of him.  
Fenris lurched to his feet and turned away from them, suddenly feeling suffocated by the atmosphere of the Hanged Man. “I shall see you later,” he managed to say, and then he hurried out into the darkness.  


He purposely avoided the route home that he knew Hawke would take, opting instead for the darker back streets. He gasped at the night air, willing it to make it feel less like he was being choked by his own sadness and jealousy. But it did nothing.  


He blundered forwards, not paying attention to his surroundings until he ran into something solid. He bounced off and found himself looking up at a very large, very angry looking man.  


“Watch where you’re going, knife-ear!” the man growled, resting his hand on the ugly looking mace at his belt.  


“Or what?” Fenris snarled back, taking in the man’s paunch and the slight slur of his words. He would welcome a fight.  


“There’s always a market for exotic slaves,” said an oily voice behind him.  


Fenris turned and found himself looking at a small group of men who had emerged from the darkened entrance of the alley to his right.  


“I am not a slave!” Fenris growled, his hand going to his sword.  


“Not yet,” the big man said, drawing the mace. “But you will be when we’re done with you.”  


“Gentlemen!” Varric sounded a little out of breath as he ran up, a pleasant smile on his face. “There’s no need for violence.”  


“Be on your way, dwarf,” the big man said. His eyes widened when suddenly a knife appeared at his throat.  


“You heard the man,” Isabela said, digging the knife in just a little.  


The big man’s eyes grew wide and he held up his hands as Varric trained Bianca on the others in the group.  


“Get going,” Varric said, gesturing with Bianca.  


The men hesitated, clearly uncertain about giving up their prize so easily, and Varric fired a round into a group of barrels to their left. They exploded in a shower of wood and with much cursing Fenris’ would-be attackers ran off into the night.  


“We’re going back to my place, Broody,” Varric said in a tone that brooked no argument. “And then me and Rivaini are going to sit with you tonight so that you don’t do anything stupid. Understand?”  


Fenris felt his eyes prickling as he struggled not to look at Varric. “You should have let them have me,” he said bitterly. He heard Varric sigh.  


“I said, we’re going home,” Varric said. “Are you going to make me carry you?”  


“Oh yes please,” Isabela teased, though there was an edge of worry in her voice. “I would enjoy watching that very much.”  


Despite himself, Fenris snorted and allowed his friends to lead him back to the Hanged Man. Varric plied him with an unending supply of whisky, while Isabela told a series of increasingly unbelievable stories about her time at sea. He found it hard to focus, though some of that could have been the whisky. His mind kept straying back up to Hightown and the Hawke Estate. To her credit, it was a few hours before Isabela sighed and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  


“I think you need to go to bed,” she said with uncharacteristic gentleness. “Diamondback tomorrow? Unless you’d like to visit the Blooming Rose with me? A little distraction might be nice.”  
Fenris felt his gorge rise and shook his head, forcing himself to try to smile at Isabela. He knew that she was trying to help in her own way.  


The smile she gave him was a sympathetic one, and then she was gone, leaving nothing between Fenris and Varric’s calm gaze.  


“Your ill-conceived attempt to get yourself killed aside,” Varric said wryly, “I want you to know that I’m proud of you. You handled yourself well tonight.”  


Perhaps it was exhaustion, or perhaps it was all the drinks, but Varric’s kind words broke something inside of Fenris. He slid out of his chair and sat down hard on the floor, burying his face in his hands. He felt like he was going to be sick.  


“Ah Broody,” Varric said and Fenris felt his comforting warmth join him on the floor. “I know it’s hard.”  


In his mind's eye Fenris saw the way that Jacob had looked at Hawke and how...relaxed she seemed to be with him. It was obvious that the two of them were getting serious. He felt his cheeks begin to tingle and he only just barely managed to make it to the chamberpot. After a few minutes of painful retching, the nausea subsided and he was able to crawl back over by the fire. Varric wordlessly handed him a cup of water.  


“He’s in love with her, Varric,” Fenris managed to whisper.  


“I know,” Varric said almost as quietly.  


Fenris put his head in his hands, stroking his fingers through his hair as she had once done. “It isn’t as though I can blame him,” he said bitterly. “She is…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I thought I had more time,” he said quietly. “Which I know is unfair of me. But the way he looked at her…” he looked up and met his friend’s eyes. “It would not shock me if he asked for her hand. And soon.”  
Varric nodded, but didn’t speak.  


“If this were one of your stories, I would go up to her estate and challenge him to duel,” Fenris said.  


“But it isn’t one of my stories,” Varric said.  


“No,” Fenris replied, staring off into the fire. “And Hawke would not thank me for it. In fact, she would probably chase me out of the estate with a fireball.”  


Varric nodded again. “You’re not wrong. So what are you going to do?”  


Fenris shrugged. “What can I do, Varric? Everything inside me is screaming to go and fight for her but I-I know that I cannot.”  


“Why, Fenris?” Varric asked, sounding a little exasperated for the first time. “Why not just tell her ‘Hawke, please rein in the marriage carriage and give us another chance’?” His clever eyes narrowed. “You are every bit as in love with her as Jacob is, even after all this time.”  


“But I cannot give her what she needs,” Fenris said quietly. “I cannot trust myself to be intimate with her, in any way. And I am still not a free man. There is always a chance that Danarius will find me.” He shrugged helplessly. “No matter what may lie in my heart, I have nothing of substance to give her. Jacob, however, does.” He glanced over at Varric and saw the sadness on his friend’s face. “I wish that he had been different tonight,” he said after a moment. “Arrogant, or some fat old man with gout and bad eyes. But he is neither of those things. I do not...hate him. I would like to, but I do not. They would be well-suited.”  


“So you’re just going to give up,” Varric said, and it wasn’t a question.  


“I do not imagine that how I feel will ever change,” Fenris said sadly. “And I do not imagine I will ever feel the same about anyone else. But I will not stand in the way of Hawke’s happiness. I will not allow myself to hurt her like I did the other day again. I shall be here until she sends me away.”  


Next to him Varric shook his head and Fenris was pretty sure he knew what his friend was thinking, because he was thinking the same thing. _You will have no one to blame but yourself when she marries Jacob._

****

By the time they had walked back to her estate in companionable silence, Hawke’s heart had slowed down just slightly. She had the sense that Jacob was giving her a chance to compose herself, and she was grateful. Bodahn let them in and they retired to her office with a final glass of wine.  


“That went well,” Jacob said once they were settled. “At least to my mind.” He smiled at her. “Your friends are a colorful group, Saoirse. It’s clear how tightly bound you are to each other.”  


“They are my family,” she said, returning his smile. “I am glad that you were able to meet them.”  


His lips curled into a smile, but there were lines between his eyes that told her there was something on his mind.  


“What is it?” she asked.  


He chuckled and took a sip of his wine. “I can never hide anything from you,” he said. He set the wine on the end table and turned towards her, taking her hands. “My darling, I have a question for you and I hope that you will be honest with me.”  


Hawke’s heart began to hammer in her chest. “All right,” she managed to rasp.  


Jacob took a deep breath. “Was Fenris the one who broke your heart?”  


Hawke was grateful she’d had the presence of mind to put her wine down before he’d finished his question because otherwise she would have spilled it all over him. She forced herself to meet his eyes. “How did you know?” she asked, seeing no point in dissembling.  


“The mood shifted when he arrived,” Jacob said and while his voice was calm, there was obvious turmoil in his eyes. “Like you were all surprised that he was there. And while he was very polite and generous…” the feral expression she’d seen the night they kissed the first time returned to his eyes. “I saw how he looked at you, Saoirse. And how he looked at me, when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.” He raised an eyebrow. “And then there is the fact that _he wears your crest on his belt_. He’s in love with you still.”  


Hawke took a deep breath. “He left me, Jacob,” she said simply.  


“But you still have feelings for him,” Jacob said. “Or else you would not have spoken of guilt that night we first kissed.”  


“And I told you that night that my feelings were complicated,” Hawke said a little sharply. “Whatever we might have been...it is done.”  


“Yes, you told me that your feelings were complicated,” Jacob said and for the first time in their acquaintance she heard anger directed towards her in his voice. “However, you did not mention that your former partner was within your close friend circle with whom you spend the bulk of your time!”  


Hawke lurched to her feet, her hands fisting at her sides. “It didn’t matter, Jacob, because we are nothing more than friends!”  


He was on his feet in an instant. “Don’t you think that your proximity to each other makes it harder for both of you to heal?” he asked, his dark eyes flashing. “Or is healing even something that you want?”  


“That’s fucking unfair and you know it!” Tears had begun to stream down her face as she glared up at Jacob. “Jacob, I owe Fenris my life. He is my friend and always will be. I won’t cast him aside because some man tells me to!”  


“Some man, eh?” he growled, taking a step closer to her. “Is that all I am, Saoirse?”  


“You know that isn’t what I mean,” Hawke said, backing away from him. The ferocity of his gaze made her heart start to beat faster...but not from fear.  


“Do I?” he asked, closing the distance between them and trapping her against the wall. He didn’t touch her, just loomed over her, staring down into her eyes.  


“Jacob, you are so much more than that to me, and if you don’t know that then you’re a fucking idiot!” she snapped at him, meeting his eyes squarely. “I just mean that I refuse to be ordered around by anyone, including you.” She felt her lips curl into a challenging smile. “The fucking Arishok couldn’t get me to let one of my friends go.” She gave him a long look up and down, her eyes narrowing. “What makes you think you have a chance?”  


He gave a dark little chuckle, his eyes darting down to her lips for an instant before meeting hers once again. “Maker’s breath,” he growled. “You are a stubborn, infuriating woman, Saoirse! No wonder Varric is going gray!” He stepped close to her, finally pressing his body against hers and pinning her against the wall. “I am going to kiss you,” he said in a low growl. “Stop me now if you do not wish it.”  


She raised her chin and met his eyes, but said nothing.  


He snarled her name and then kissed her harder than he ever had before, jerking her body against him hard with one hand while the other slid behind her head. His tongue urged her lips open and she let him, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning into him. He broke the kiss and his dark eyes held hers as he took her cheek in his palm. “I am in love with you, Saoirse,” he said quietly. “And while I do not think that you share my feelings yet, I need only know that there is hope that you might.” He quirked his lip. “I am a patient man, though I do have my pride. I cannot and will not wait forever.” His expression softened and he pressed his lips to hers. “But I think that we have a real chance at something special if it is allowed to grow.”  


Her heart was pounding at the sudden revelation of the depth of his feelings for her. She reached up and caressed his cheek, desperately searching for a reply. “Jacob you are the dearest friend that I have made in a very long time,” she said, carefully choosing her words. “And I-I care for you very deeply.” She gave a breathless laugh. “I will admit, you are the first man to ever tell me that he loves me.”  


“The first to tell you, perhaps,” Jacob said pointedly. “But certainly not the first to love you.”  


She shrugged, not wanting the conversation to go back to Fenris. “The point is, you’re special,” she said. “I just don’t know exactly what that means yet.”  


Jacob nodded. “That is...fair,” he replied a little wryly. “Perhaps not the passionate response I was hoping for, but an honest one.”  


“I’ve never lied to you,” she said firmly. “And I don’t intend on starting now.” She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him softly, surprising herself with a little moan when he clasped her to him tightly. 

The kiss was a long one, and while it was nowhere near as intense as they had been with Fenris it was...nice. Could nice be enough? Did she want nice to be enough?  


His eyes were dark when they pulled back and Hawke shivered at the need she saw in them. “Andraste preserve me,” he rasped. “I have never wanted to take you more than I do right now.”  


She gasped and saw a definite flicker of satisfaction in his dark eyes. She realized that he was enjoying keeping her a little off-balance and to her surprise, she was enjoying it as well. “What’s stopping you?” she asked, her mouth running off without her as it often did.  


He laughed softly, but the look in his eyes was a hungry one. She thought she saw a glimpse of the kind of man who would go so far as the Deep Roads for vengeance. “My sense of honor,” he sighed. 

“Much to my chagrin. We have both had too much to drink tonight to take this sort of step.” He caressed her cheek, shaking his head. “If we are to lie together, my own darling, I want it to be under circumstances where neither of us can doubt that it was real.”  


She nodded, half heartedly wishing he wasn’t quite so honorable and inwardly flinching at the echo of her own words to Fenris. Perhaps if they got the massive stumbling block of sleeping together out of the way, she could move on and learn to love him. He was a good man who was plainly crazy about her. She loved his home, loved his people, why couldn’t she just love him in the way he did her? She just wanted to be happy. Was that such a huge thing to want for herself?  


Jacob, ever the gentleman, walked her up to her bedroom and gave her a lingering goodnight kiss before slipping away to seek out his own bed.  


She shucked her clothes and crawled into bed, her mind whirling. She felt filled with nervous energy, due in no small part to the fact that somewhere in all the kissing she had gotten wet. Perhaps it was naive of her, but she hadn’t expected that another man would make her feel that way. And yet, when she slid her hand down her body and between her legs she was swollen and all but dripping. She draped her other arm over her eyes and began to circle her clit with her middle finger, idly wondering if Jacob was doing something similar. She tried to imagine what that would look like, if he would approach it as deliberately as he did most things, or if it would be more like the passionate glimpses she’d gotten lately. Was that what she wanted? Her body certainly seemed to accept the idea more easily than her mind did. She tried to imagine hearing him say her name as he took her, but it was Fenris’ softly whispered “Saoirse” that she heard. She tried to dispel the memories as they flooded back, but the thought of Fenris’ mouth on her body, the way he held her when he’d slid inside her...She gasped his name as she came and immediately felt like doubly a monster. Fenris couldn’t be with her, so it felt wrong to think of him that way. And Jacob wanted to be, and here she was imagining Fenris.  


She curled up on her side, wrapping her arms around a pillow as she started to cry. _Why did it have to be so fucking hard?_


	15. Noble Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris has a surprising talk with Jacob. Hawke decides to take the next step in her relationship with unexpected results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning: Suicidal Ideation at the end of the Chapter**

Fenris woke up by stages, his head pounding. It was rare that he was hungover, but he’d had entirely too much to drink the night before. That, coupled with the emotional turmoil of the evening and very little sleep had him feeling wretched. He flinched as Varric let out a hideously loud snore. He had to go home. Quickly he scribbled a note to Varric.

_Thank you for all you did for me last night. You are a true friend. I went home to sleep off this wretched hangover. No duels. I promise. -Fenris_

He pulled Varric’s covers up to his shoulders and then slipped from his friend’s quarters and hurried from the Hanged Man. He pulled his collar up against the chilly misting rain that had begun to fall and did his best not to think about how awful he felt as he trudged up the steps to Hightown. He was crossing the plaza to his mansion when he heard a familiar voice call his name. For a craven moment he thought very seriously about ducking into his mansion and locking the door. He had promised no duels, after all. Instead he forced himself to square his shoulders and shake his hair out of his eyes so that he could look at Jacob Durand. 

The Count was dressed in understated finery with a sheaf of papers under one arm, obviously heading out on whatever important errand he’d alluded to the night before. 

“Jacob!” he said with cheer he did not remotely feel. “I hope that you are well this morning.”  


“Better than you are, I think,” Jacob said with a sympathetic wince. “You look a little green around the gills.”  


“I stayed up rather late with Isabela and Varric,” Fenris said. “There were...more drinks than was advisable.”   


“You have my sympathies,” Jacob said, his dark eyes alarmingly intent on Fenris. “Though I wonder if I might impose on you for a few minutes later on today? I wished to discuss something with you, but I would hate to force you to talk right now.”  


Fenris suppressed a sigh and nodded. “I shall be home,” he said with calm he did not feel.   


“Excellent!” Jacob said. “I shall be by around teatime, I should think, assuming that is agreeable to you?”  


“It is,” Fenris said, forcing himself to give a brief bow. “I shall see you then, Jacob.”  


“Indeed,” Jacob said, returning the gesture. He turned away and strode purposefully off towards the markets and Fenris hurried to let himself into his mansion before Hawke could also appear. Once he was inside he spent an uncomfortable amount of time getting sick again before he was certain that the worst had come and gone. He forced himself to eat a little bread and cheese to settle his stomach and then went to his practice room. Though he was exhausted, he put himself through the most complicated and taxing series of sword forms and exercises that he could think of until he was trembling with weariness. He collapsed into his bed and fell into a deep sleep that was mercifully dreamless. 

He awoke hours later and the position of the sun told him he had about an hour before Jacob arrived. His exertions and nap had fulfilled their desired purpose though. He was considerably more clear-headed and grounded and once he’d bathed and eaten a little more he felt almost ready for his meeting. He hesitated as he picked up Hawke’s crest out of habit. He looked into the beloved red lines and knew what he had to do. He took her scarf that he always wore and wrapped the crest up in it, reverently placing it in the little box Varric had given him to store letters and other treasures. He felt hideously empty as he hid it away under his bed, but wearing it to meet Jacob the night before had been a terrible oversight on his part. He’d seen the Count’s eyes flicker towards it and fill with recognition. He didn’t want to make things any harder for Hawke.  


He dressed with slightly more care than usual, opting to wear slightly less beaten up versions of his usual black clothes. He eschewed his armor, not wanting to give Jacob the wrong impression, and then sat down on the staircase, waiting.  


Jacob was punctual, Fenris had to give him that. The chantry bells had only just tolled when there was a firm knock on Fenris’ door. He took a deep breath and walked over to open it. Jacob was standing outside, looking guarded. Nonetheless, he smiled at Fenris and accepted his invitation to come in.   


“Can I get you a drink?” Fenris asked.   


“I think this conversation is better done sober,” Jacob said. “Don’t you?”  


Fenris nodded. He felt oddly detached as he looked at the other man and he knew that he had slipped into the frame of mind he often found himself in during battle.  


“I suspect that you know why I’m here,” Jacob said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “You are an intelligent man.”  


Fenris raised an eyebrow. “Does she know that you’re here?” he asked.   


Jacob shook his head. “I will tell her tonight,” he said calmly. “I find it better to ask forgiveness than permission.” He smiled wryly. “Especially with someone who might be inclined to set me on fire.” The smile left his face as rapidly as it had come. “You are in love with her.”  


Hearing it stated so baldly struck Fenris like a blow, but when it was anyone but Hawke or Varric he could conceal his hurt. He took a deep breath, met Jacob squarely in the eyes, and nodded.   


The other man inhaled sharply. “At least you are honest,” he said. He nodded to Fenris’ waist. “Her crest is gone.”  


“It should have been some time ago,” Fenris said with calm he did not feel. “I have no claim to Hawke. It was...sentimentality.” He crossed his own arms. “Jacob, my feelings about Hawke are irrelevant. I made a choice a year ago _and it was the most stupid decision I’ve ever made in my life_ the correct one. I cannot be a partner to her, and so I let her go.”  


“Just like that?” Jacob asked and this time there was an edge to his tone. “Was it so easy to cast her aside?”  


“It was the most difficult thing I have ever done,” Fenris said, echoing the words he had said to Anders months before. “But it was the right thing nonetheless.”  


“Why?” Jacob asked. “I cannot imagine-”  


“No,” Fenris interrupted, trying to control the bitterness he could hear creeping into his tone. “I do not imagine that you can. But you have never been a slave, I am certain. You have never had to spend every moment wondering when your past will return to take all that you hold dear.”  


“You and I both know Saoirse would never let anyone take you,” Jacob said. “That cannot be all of it.”  


“No,” Fenris agreed. “But it is as much as I am willing to share. Suffice it to say, I cannot be the man she deserves. She has a big heart, Jacob, and she is loyal. She will allow herself to be hurt for those who she cares for. As one of those people, it falls upon me to protect her when she will not protect herself.” He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat and gave Jacob a look. “If you are going to threaten me or offer to bribe me to leave Kirkwall, you may as well save your breath,” Fenris said firmly. “Before anything else, Hawke is my friend. I will not abandon her.”  


Jacob’s expression softened fractionally. “I would not have done either of those things, for what it is worth,” he said. “If for no other reason than that Saoirse would kill me.” He shook his head. “I just...wanted to get a sense of who you are, Fenris, outside of your carefully guarded performance last night.” He inclined his head. “May I ask you a question?”  


“Yes,” Fenris replied.   


“If I were to ask Saoirse to be my wife, would you interfere?”  


Fenris could feel an awful weight settle over his heart, but he forced himself to shake his head. “I would not,” he said. He swallowed hard. “Jacob, all I want is for her to be happy. If you can make her happy, then you have my blessing.”  


“I believe I can, if given a chance,” Jacob said. “I certainly intend on spending the rest of my life trying, if she’ll have me.” The sincerity in his voice was so intense it was almost cloying. Jacob squared his shoulders and stuck out his hand. Though it cost him something, Fenris reached out and shook it. “Thank you for talking, Fenris.”  


“I will not say that it was a pleasure,” Fenris replied. “But I hope that it...helps.”  


Jacob smiled at him. “As do I,” he said. “And now I should be going. Mrs. Marsh is vexed when we cause dinner to be late. Have a good night, Fenris. And thank you again.”  


Fenris walked him out and was proud of the fact that tears didn’t fall until the count had gone. He stumbled up to his room and wrapped himself up in his green blanket as the awful, hollow place inside of him that had formed the night he’d left her expanded until it felt like it had emptied out everything joyful that he’d ever felt. He stared into her fire as he clutched the blanket and he was so deep inside his well of misery that he didn’t notice right away that he had company. 

****

Varric stared at his friend from the doorway, wondering how to approach him. He’d seen Jacob leave the mansion and tucked himself around a corner so that he wouldn’t be seen. If Jacob was leaving unharmed, Fenris likely needed someone to talk to. “Evening, Broody,” Varric said gently.   


“Varric.”  


Varric winced. The elf’s voice was just...empty. “What happened?” he asked, sitting down next to Fenris.  


“Jacob wished to talk.”  


“About Hawke?”  


Fenris pulled the blanket more tightly around himself. “Yes,” he whispered. “He asked me if I loved her still. I did not lie.”  


Varric took a deep breath. _Maker’s great, pendulous balls._ “All right,” he coaxed gently.   


“He asked me why I was no longer wearing her crest,” Fenris continued. “I told him that it was foolish sentimentality and that I would eschew it in the future. I have no claim to her and she is soon to be a married woman.”  


“Maker, Fenris-”  


“I gave them my blessing,” Fenris choked out. “I told him I would not stand in their way.” He finally looked at Varric and the whites were showing all around his green eyes. He looked panic-stricken. “I-I let her go, Varric, because it was the right thing to do. But why-damn it... _damn it_...Fasta Vass...If it is right, why do I feel so utterly... _this_?”  


Varric didn’t have an answer for him and could only shake his head sadly.  


Fenris let out a choked little sob and suddenly lurched to his feet and lunged for his bed. He dropped to his knees so heavily that Varric thought for a moment that he had fallen, but the elf was groping under the bed for something. He pulled out the little box Varric recognized as one of his gifts. As a slave Fenris had never been allowed to keep any sort of treasures. Varric had wanted to change that. Fenris reached into it desperately and pulled out the red scarf, unwinding it gently and pulling out Hawke’s crest. He clutched it in his shaking hands and collapsed on the bed. “I have to let her go,” he rasped. “I have to, Varric, but I don’t think I can. But I can’t leave, not unless she sends me away. I-I have no idea what I am going to do when she marries him.”  


“Tell you what,” Varric said. “Why don’t we cross that bridge when we come to it. For right now, why don’t I get us a drink?”  


Fenris nodded, staring ahead and clutching Hawke’s crest.  


Varric hurried down to the basement and picked up a few bottles of wine before returning to Fenris’ side. His heart was broken for his friend. He had never seen Fenris so lost and he knew that he couldn’t leave him alone. He poured for the two of them and then made himself as comfortable as he could by the fire and rested his elbows on his knees, thinking. He liked Jacob, he really did, but more than anything he had wanted Hawke to begin to live again. If he was honest, he had never imagined that things would escalate so far and he felt responsible. She could certainly do worse than Jacob, but he _knew_ her. He _knew_ that she still loved Fenris as deeply as he loved her. But the damned stubborn elf refused to believe that he was good enough for her and it had led him to push her into the arms of another man. It was a damned mess. He only hoped that it could all be resolved before anyone made a permanent choice that changed their life forever.

****

 _This is crazy_ , Hawke thought to herself as she awkwardly fidgeted on the couch in her office. Things between her and Jacob had been a little strained after their conversation last night as both of them tried to work out where they stood with one another. When he’d left for his appointment that morning, Hawke had made a decision. She was determined to try and let herself be with Jacob. Whatever she’d had with Fenris, it was clearly over and he’d made it clear more than once that he was doing his best to distance himself. All waiting would do was make her bitter and resentful, and then she’d truly lose him for good.   


Firmly putting Fenris out of her mind, Hawke had snagged one of Jacob’s shirts from Orana on her way back with clean laundry. The elf woman had grinned at her and inclined her head. Hawke knew that Orana was more than happy to encourage her, not only because she cared for Hawke’s happiness, but also because it meant she could more easily “pass time” with Neriel.  


She spent a restless day trying to read to little effect before she decided that it was time to get ready. She bathed, put on some of her expensive lotion that left her skin feeling incredibly soft, and then Jacob’s shirt. She wore nothing else besides her smalls and when she looked at herself in the mirror, she had to admit she looked at least a little alluring. The light gray of Jacob’s shirt looked nice with her dark skin and the necklace he’d given her dangled in a tempting fashion between her breasts. She took a deep breath and nodded to her reflection. “You can do this,” she said out loud. Trying to ignore how uncertain her reflection looked, she went down to her office and asked Orana to direct Jacob there when he arrived.  


She sat on the couch with her back to the armrest and her legs stretched out in front of her in what she hoped was at least a somewhat inviting position. She picked up a book and idly leafed through it until she heard Jacob and Orana’s voices downstairs. Quickly she set the book down and sat up, tugging the sleeve of Jacob’s shirt so that it fell off her shoulder.   


“Saoirse?” Jacob said as he opened the door. “Orana mentioned-” he trailed off as he caught sight of her. “Maker’s breath,” he whispered, shutting and locking the door behind himself. “My own darling.” He set down the bottle of wine he carried and came to her, reaching down and taking her hand to gently pull her to her feet. His hand shook as he reached out and caressed the bare skin of her shoulder. “You are a vision,” he said reverently. “You look much better in my shirts than I do.”  


Hawke let out a breathless laugh and Jacob smiled back at her, taking her into his arms. He kissed her deeply, one of his hands spanning her lower back while the other slid into her hair and clasped her to him. His lips were urgent against hers and his tongue sought hers out as he deepened the kiss. She could feel his hard length against her hip as he moaned against her lips. He pulled back, breathing hard, and stroked his hands up and down her back.   


“Saoirse,” he said, his voice rough. “I need to talk to you about something-”  


She cocked her head and dipped her shoulder, allowing his shirt to slide further down to reveal the top of her breast.  


He let out a soft growl and jerked her against him, his mouth seeking out the skin of her neck, collarbone, and shoulder. He kissed and nibbled, then dragged his tongue back along the same path, making her gasp when he nipped her earlobe and then sucked it into his mouth. His hands had slid up the back of the shirt, gently stroking the skin of her back and sides. His thumb brushed the side of her breast and she let out a whimper, involuntarily arching her back.  


Jacob glanced up at her and then leaned down and kissed her breast through the fabric of her shirt, making her rock restlessly against him. It felt so good to be touched, but the voice in the back of her mind was quick to remind her that this was not Fenris.   


_It can’t be Fenris_ , she chided herself. She was so focused on trying to rein in her thoughts that it caught her by surprise when Jacob lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist. He walked her back until she was pressed against the wall, and kissed her again, his lips hungry against hers.   


“I’m not too heavy?” she whispered against his lips.  


He snorted and kissed her again, beginning to move against her deliberately, his cock stroking against her through their clothes. “Maker, Saoirse,” he growled, breaking the kiss to look at her. “You feel so good, my darling.” He smiled at her and there was a hint of shyness to it. “Not doing too badly for an old man, eh?".   


She smiled back. "Not bad at all," she murmured, tilting her head to the side and baring her throat to him, an invitation he was quick to accept. She felt the rasp of his stubble against the sensitive skin of her throat and suddenly she was back in Lowtown, feeling Fenris’ smooth lips as they blazed a fiery trail down her throat. She gave a little shake of her head, and Jacob, attentive as ever, stopped immediately. _Shit_ , she thought as he lowered her to the ground and looked down at her.  


“Are you all right?” he asked.  


She nodded, not trusting her voice, and took his hand. Wordlessly she led him to her bedroom and locked the door behind them, leaning against it and feeling her heart pound. Was she really going to do this? “You’re wearing too many clothes,” she heard herself say.  


Jacob raised an eyebrow. “Saoirse, I think that we should talk-”  


She stepped towards him and slid her hands inside his doublet, pushing it off his shoulders. “So talk,” she said, sliding her hands underneath the bottom hem of his shirt and trailing her nails up his belly. His chest was broader than Fenris’ and he had short, wiry chest hair instead of-  


_Stop it_ , she told herself firmly.   


Jacob groaned and she felt a powerful shudder go through his body. She glanced up at him and caught her breath. There was _hunger_ in the way he was looking at her.   


“Saoirse,” he growled, catching her wrists and pulling her hands away from him. He smiled at her, but it was strained. “Believe me when I tell you that I want nothing more right now than to throw you down and _fuck_ you until you can barely remember your own name.”  


She gasped at the uncharacteristic vulgarity and he grinned at her, his eyes widening fractionally.  


“What, my darling?” he murmured, pulling her against him but keeping her hands pinned at her sides. She felt the rasp of his stubble against her neck again as his lips brushed her ear. “I am but a man, after all. One cannot be a gentleman all the time. Does it surprise you to know that I think of you in those terms?”  


“Which terms?” she challenged him. “Specifically?”  


He growled and picked her up, carrying her to bed so smoothly that one would never guess he had a prosthetic leg. He put her down gently and then loomed over her, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers. Hawke scooted back on the bed and looked up at him with wide eyes.   


“I think often of fucking you, Saoirse,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “I wonder how you would taste when I licked your clit and drove you over the edge over and over. I think of how your nipples would feel in my mouth and between my teeth.” He slid one hand down and brushed it over the prominent bulge in his pants. “I find myself wondering, when you have left me alone in my castle, if you go home and touch yourself as I, inevitably, do.”  


“Maker, Jacob,” Hawke whispered.   


_Disloyal_ , the voice said. _Maybe Fenris was never anything to you at all. Maybe you’re just a vain whore who needs a man to tell you he wants you._   


“You _did_ ask,” he said with a little smile. He took a deep breath and took a step back from the bed. “You stay there,” he said firmly. “Because if you keep distracting me I am never going to get this out.” He gave her a gentle smile. “And if I do not speak this now, I will forever feel that I have lain with you under false pretenses.” He straightened his shoulders. “I had a difficult conversation today. I hope that you will forgive my presumption.”  


Hawke wrapped her arms around her knees. “With whom?” she asked with a terrible feeling that she knew the answer.  


“Do you really have to ask?” Jacob said.   


Hawke sighed. “Fenris,” she said. Saying his name out loud while she sat on the bed they’d shared wearing one of Jacob’s shirts made her skin crawl with guilt.   


“Indeed,” Jacob said. He took a deep breath. “Saoirse...I asked him if he’d interfere, were I to ask for your hand.”  


“If you _what?_ ” she breathed.  


He gave her a little smile. “Saoirse, I have already confessed my love and you know what kind of man I am. Can it really be so surprising that that be my intention?”  


“No...I suppose not,” she said quietly, her heart pounding.  


“You haven’t asked what he said,” Jacob pointed out. His eyes searched hers. “He gave us his blessing, Saoirse.”  


His words _should_ have been a relief. They _should_ have freed her to lie with this dear, handsome, kind man who she _liked_ and accept his offer of marriage. Instead they struck her heart like blows. He had given his blessing. He let her go. It was kind and selfless and it made her feel like she had been punched in the gut.   


“You do not look like a woman liberated,” Jacob said gently.   


She pulled her legs up tight against her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “I don’t feel like one either,” she admitted. “I thought...” she trailed off, shaking her head. “Shit. Jacob...I don’t think I can do this. It isn’t fair to you. I-care about you so deeply, but-” 

“But it isn’t enough.” he said with chilling finality. “Not for a woman with your heart. Your...spirit.” He swallowed hard. “I suppose that is why I went and talked to Fenris.” He gave her a sad smile. “In a lot of ways this is easier if I am being noble and ‘releasing you’ to return to your former lover who still carries an obvious flame for you. It’s like something out of one of Varric’s books. It’s a lot harder on my pride to admit that you just aren’t in love with me.” 

She clenched her eyes shut as though she could shut out the truth of his words. “I _want_ to be,” she said softly. “You’re an incredible man, Jacob. You’re my friend. If we were different people…”  


“But we aren’t, Saoirse,” he said.   


“No,” she whispered. She turned and looked at him. “I’m sorry, Jacob,” she whispered, hating how insufficient the words were. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to lead you on or-or-”  


“Hush,” he said gently. “I know that, Saoirse.” He caught her chin and made her look at him. “Darling, I am going to need some time to...heal. But I hope that when we both have, you will return to the fucking castle. It will not be the same without you.”  


She rested her forehead against his. “I will,” she said through the tears that were coming faster than ever.   


He pressed his lips to hers for a moment, and then took a step away from her with obvious effort and walked across the room. His shoulders were rigid with pain and just as he reached the door he turned and looked at her and unshed tears in his eyes caught the firelight. “Be well, my darling Saoirse,” he said. And then he was gone.   


Hawke stared after him for a long few moments and then curled up in as small a ball as she could make herself. What was _wrong_ with her? How could she have destroyed so much so quickly? She tightened her arms around her legs, sobbing. Before their night together, Fenris had said that there was nothing magic didn’t touch that it didn’t spoil. But it wasn’t magic. It was _her_. _She_ ruined everything that she touched. They called her the fucking Champion. What a joke. The Champion of Loss, maybe. The Champion of Failure. The Champion of Letting Down People She Loved.   


Maybe she had already used up her lifetime allotment of happiness.  


She sat up abruptly and slid from the bed, starting to pace. What was the point of it all? Why was she still fighting? Every time she tried, she made it worse. It had cost her almost everything she loved. She was just. So. _Tired_. Tired of fighting, tired of losing, tired of hurting, tired of all of it.  


She walked over to her desk and collapsed into the chair, staring blankly ahead. She found herself thinking of the place between places that she’d been as she lay dying following the fight with the Arishok. It was moments like this that she wished that she’d ignored her friends’ pleas and stayed. At least there she wouldn’t have to hurt anymore.  


With a sigh she reached out and grabbed the decanter that held the Antivan whiskey that Varric had bought her. The stuff was deceptively mild, but packed a hell of a punch. If she couldn't be done, then perhaps at least she could be numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, friends! I'm sorry that it's taking a little longer to get chapters out. I had a lot of this written before I initially started posting, but the story has evolved and I'm having to slow down and make changes. Also, with all that's going on, my state classifies me as an essential worker in a field where I have a lot of contact with potentially infected people. Things have been crazy, as you can imagine, and it's making it a little hard to focus on writing when I get home. I'm doing my best to update as much as I can, but that's the other thing slowing it down. Thank you so much for reading! I hope that you are enjoying it so far. <3


	16. Dark Thoughts & Darker Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris finds out about Hawke and Jacob's relationship ending. Varric does his best to pick up the pieces, even when it gives him nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING: Suicidal Ideation & Tranquility **

Thunder rolled and for a moment, Fenris thought that that was what had woken him up. However, as he listened he realized that it was the sound of someone banging on his front door that had broken his fitful rest. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he dragged himself to his feet and carefully stepped over Varric who was snoring by the fire. He grabbed his sword and then hurried down the stairs. “Who is it?” he asked in a brief pause between knocks.  


“Hawke,” she said in an awful, empty little voice.  


He leaned his sword against the wall and unlatched the door, opening it to reveal pouring rain and a shivering Hawke. She had her arms wrapped around herself and Fenris immediately stepped back, inviting her in. She took a few steps past him and paused in the little atrium, dripping on the floor.   


“Can I get you something to drink, Your Grace?” he asked in what he hoped was a light, teasing tone. The words tasted bitter in his mouth, however, and he knew from the rigidity in her shoulders that she’d heard it too.  


“Don’t,” she said, turning around to face him. By the dim light of the lanterns, Fenris could now see that she had obviously been crying. “I’m not...Jacob’s gone, Fenris. He and I….we’re done.”  


He stared at her as his heart started to pound. _Tell her that you’re sorry,_ said the voice of his conscience. He opened his mouth, but the words refused to obey. He couldn’t lie to her and tell her he was sorry when all he felt was relief. He was still struggling for a response when he saw her shoulders drop as she gave a little shake of her head. When she spoke, her voice sounded almost hollow. “Don’t you _care_?”   


He flinched, but held her eyes. “Of course I care, Hawke,” he said helplessly. He cared too damn _much_ , that was the whole Maker-cursed issue. Even now, seeing the tears tracking down her face, he couldn’t ignore that his heart had started to beat a little faster. He hadn’t lost her. Not yet.   


“You gave him your _blessing_ ,” Hawke said in the same empty little voice.  


“What would you have had me do?” he replied. He took a step towards her, aching to reach out and take her into his arms. “Hawke, I told Jacob that I would give anything for you to be happy and I meant it! I wanted you to have a life. Marriage, children, if that’s what you wanted, I just wanted you to be happy. Because I have no right to hold you when I cannot be a partner to you! Because-”  


“All I _want_ is for you to hold me,” she said so quietly that he almost missed it. His words dried up as abruptly as if someone had shut a sluice gate and he saw the unmistakable panic in her eyes as she realized what she had said.   


He reached for her hand. “Hawke-”  


“I should go,” she said, taking a step back from him. “Just...I wanted you to hear it from me first, but I’m sorry I-” she gave a little shake of her head. “I’ll see you later.” She turned and all but fled from his mansion, letting the heavy front door slam shut behind her.   


“Well, shit,” said Varric’s voice behind him.  


“You heard that?” Fenris asked, not turning around. He felt as though he had horribly bungled that encounter.  


“Except whatever she said that made her run out of here like a cat with its tail on fire.” Fenris felt the comforting solidity of Varric’s presence on his right side as the dwarf came to stand next to him.   


Fenris shook his head. Though he couldn’t deny his relief that she would not be marrying Count Durand, the terrible weight of guilt had settled into his heart. “Varric...do you think that it was because of me?”  


Varric heaved a long sigh. “Are you sure that you really want me to answer that, Fenris?”  


“Yes,” Fenris said, feeling the way his insides seemed to twist around on themselves. There was silence between them for a few long moments and then Varric looked up and met his eyes.   


“All right, Broody,” Varric said gently. “You’re my friend, so I’m not going to bullshit you. Yes, though I don’t think it’s just because of you. I think it’s obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes that there’s still something between the two of you, even if you’re not acting on it.” He gave a defeated shrug of his shoulders. “Jacob’s a smart man, and an honorable one. If he was really thinking about marrying Hawke, he’d want to be sure that it was really what she wanted before he asked. I’m guessing that, well, it wasn’t.”  


Fenris flinched, feeling his skin crawling with guilt. “I should go and-”  


“No,” Varric said. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t. The two of them are adults who made their choice.” He glanced off in the direction of Hawke’s estate. “I’ll go and keep her company. Seeing you right now is only going to hurt her.”  


“I never intended to cause her pain,” Fenris said, hanging his head. “Damn it, Varric, that is the _last_ thing I ever wanted. You should have seen her face...she looked so miserable that I gave them my blessing. I was just trying to do the right thing.”  


“I know,” Varric said. “I know that you were. Why don’t you go back to bed and I’ll go take care of Hawke.” Though he wished there was something more he could do, Fenris nodded and turned to go upstairs when Varric caught his shoulder. The dwarf gave him a long look. “Fenris, it’s rare that we get second chances. Once things settle down a little bit...I wouldn’t waste this one or it’ll be the biggest regret of your life.” With that he clapped Fenris on the shoulder and hurried out of the mansion and towards Hawke’s estate.   


Fenris didn’t remember going back up to his room, but suddenly he was kneeling in front of his fireplace, staring into Hawke’s fire. It still burned as warm and steady as ever. Perhaps it was time to admit to himself that it was not the only thing. The trouble was, he wasn’t sure what that meant...for either of them.

****

Varric knocked on the door to Hawke’s estate and it was unusually long before Bodahn answered. The other dwarf looked anxious.   


“Master Tethras! I’m so glad that you’re here!”  


Varric did his best to give him a reassuring smile. “Where is Hawke?” he asked.  


“She’s in her poor dear mother’s room,” Bodahn said. “She had me unlock it tonight, first time since Mistress Leandra was taken from us.”  


_Oh, Sweetheart_ , Varric thought sadly. He thanked Bodahn and hurried up the stairs to Leandra’s old room. Orana was standing outside, arms crossed in front of herself holding on to her elbows.   


“She’s locked me out,” Orana said sadly.  


Inside he could hear the muffled sound of Hawke’s voice. “I’m fine, Orana.”   


“I’m sorry, Mistress, but we both know that isn’t true,” Orana said firmly. “Master Tethras is here. Will you let him in, at least?”  


Behind the door there was the sound of movement and then the knob turned. Hawke’s voice emanated from the darkness inside. “Fine.”  


“Thank you, Orana,” Varric said, giving the girl a smile.   


She smiled back, though it was strained, and then hurried off saying something about tea.   


Varric pushed the door open and let his eyes adjust to the dimness. Hawke had retreated back over by the window, where she plopped down in the velvet covered seat and stared out into the rain.   


“You got here quickly,” Hawke said, the slight deliberateness in how she spoke confirming for him that she’d been at the bottle for a while already.  


“I was at Fenris’,” Varric replied.   


“Ah,” Hawke said bitterly. “Then you know how he just…” she made a vague gesture.   


“He was trying to do a good thing,” Varric said. “You have to know that.”  


Hawke shrugged a shoulder. “What I know that even though she’s gone, I have found yet another way to be a disappointment to my mother,” she said, taking a swig from a bottle of wine. She pulled a face and as Varric got closer he saw that the bottle was the port that Leandra had loved.   


“What do you mean, Hawke?” he asked gently.  


“Losing the chance to be a countess,” Hawke said bitterly. “Can you imagine what mother would say? ‘Oh, my darling, if only you had listened. Perhaps if you wrote Jacob a letter, he would take you back. He’s such a lovely man. You could be a Countess...just think of the lives my grandchildren could have!”  


“Stop,” Varric said, sitting down next to her. “Hawke, I think your mother would be much more concerned with how much you are hurting than anything else.”  


Hawke snorted. “I gave up the chance to be a Countess, Varric. She’d never let me forget it. All because of a man who doesn’t even want to be with me anymore.”  


“Hawke-”  


“I’m such a fucking idiot, Varric,” Hawke said. “Pathetic.”  


“That isn’t true,” Varric said, reaching out to take her hands.   


She jerked them away and crossed her arms across her chest, dropping her chin down to her collarbone. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” she said so quietly that he almost didn’t hear it.  


“Do what, sweetheart?” Varric asked.   


She shrugged again and gestured vaguely. “This, all of this.” She let her hands drop down and Varric saw her pick something up from the windowsill. A little flash of silver caught the tiny bit of light that leaked in from under the door. His eyes had adjusted to the gloom and he was able to make out the shape of a tiny knife. “I’m tired of fighting, Varric. I’m tired of hurting. I’m tired of-of failing. I just want it to stop.”  


He reached out and covered her hands with his before she could move away. “I know,” he said. He felt her try to pull away, but he held on firmly.   


“Ignore me,” she said with false brightness. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to whine. You should go home. I’ll be ok.”  


“I’m not going anywhere,” Varric said. “I’m not going to leave you sitting in the dark with those thoughts and that knife.”   


“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hawke lied.   


With a quick twist of his wrist and flicked of his fingers, Varric popped the knife out of her hands and held it up.   


“Oh,” Hawke said dully. “That. I just like having it with me. It’s nice to know I could have an out if I really needed it. I couldn’t use that one though. It was from Fenris. It’d kill him.” She stared out the window. “Maybe I should attack a Templar or something. Then Meredith would make me Tranquil and I wouldn’t have to feel any of this shit anymore.”  


Her words hit him as hard as any blow. She’d gone down into somewhere very dark if that was what she was thinking. “That’s enough, Hawke,” he said more sternly than he’d intended.   


She gave a bitter little laugh that ended in a sob. “Just go,” she said, her voice sounding rough and painfully, painfully hollow. “Just leave, Varric, before I hurt you too. Let me go and go write a story about a better version of me, one that doesn’t keep failing and losing and, and-”  


He caught her in a hug before she could continue. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “And neither are you.” He gave her a last squeeze and then pulled back and took her face in his hands. “And you’ve got another thing coming if you think I’d let anyone, _especially_ Meredith take you away.”  


She lurched forward, wrapping her arms around his neck as sobs overtook her and the two of them sat there for a very long time.   


“I’ve got you,” Varric murmured, rubbing her back. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, Saoirse, but things will get better.”  


“You can’t know that,” she sniffled, pulling back and wiping her eyes on her sleeve.  


“And yet, I do,” Varric replied, trying to inject some lightness in his tone. “And you trust me, right, Hawke?”  


She gave a little snort that lifted his worry just slightly. “Except when we’re playing cards.”  


He put a hand over his heart dramatically. “You wound me!”  


She let out a rusty little chuckle and rose from the window seat, looking around the dark rooms. “I’m sorry, Mother,” she said quietly. “I just didn’t love him the way I-I need to.”  


Varric reached out and took her hand. “Come on, Hawke,” he said, giving a gentle tug towards the door. “Let’s get you into dry clothes and put some food in you.” He was relieved when she allowed him to lead her out of Leandra’s quarters and to her own. There, Orana had laid dry clothes out on the bed and there was a tray sitting on the little table by her window. He turned his back while she changed and then the two of them sat down and shared the late snack. Hawke was yawning hugely by the time they were done and didn’t resist when Varric chivied her off towards her bed. He tucked her in and then lay down next to her, smiling when she immediately turned and put her head on his chest.   


“I’ve got you,” he said, planting a kiss on the top of her head.  


“Thank you,” she said sleepily. “Love you, Varric.”  


He gave her a little squeeze. “I love you too, Hawke.”   


It didn’t take long for her breathing to even out and soon she was snoring softly against his chest. Varric sighed and closed his eyes. He would keep an eye on her in the next few weeks. The kind of headspace she was in was a dangerous one if ignored. Though he made it seem otherwise in The Tale of the Champion, the book he’d committed to writing after the Arishok battle, Hawke was generally pretty cautious about displaying her magic. But doing something big and flashy so that Meredith and her Templars would have no choice but to arrest her...that was alarmingly within the realm of possibility with her in this hopeless headspace. Especially with both Leandra and Carver gone. He would do everything he could to make sure she never got the chance. 

****

_The Gallows were cold in the wan light of the early winter morning. It was the kind of cold that sank into your bones and made you feel like you’d never be warm again. And as Varric looked up at the hastily erected scaffold, he didn’t think he ever would be.  
_

_Hawke stood on the scaffold, the Mantle of the Champion stripped away and a plain Chantry robe in its place. Her arms were bound behind her back and her skin had the waxy sheen that told him she’d been heavily dosed with magebane. Despite his advice, despite every attempt to slow her rapid descent into self-destruction, Hawke had spiraled out of control. Nothing he had done had slowed her drinking, or her stubborn insistence on looking for bigger and bigger fights. A scuffle with some slavers one night had alerted the Templars and they had arrived just in time to see her immolate the slaver leader and the section of docks he’d been standing on.  
_

_“Go!” she snarled to him and Fenris.  
_

_“I will not leave you!” Fenris had retorted.  
_

_“They will send you back to Tevinter!” Hawke replied. “And Varric, there won’t be anyone else to look after our friends if they take you. Go. This is my mess.” She’d given him a wobbly smile. “I love you both. Don’t do anything stupid.” Then she’d turned and damned herself further by hurling a fireball at the Templars. It had had the desired effect of giving Varric the chance to drag Fenris off unseen. Hawke’s insistence on them running had given Varric time to warn Merrill and Anders. With Hawke in custody it wouldn’t be long before her other mage friends were taken in. Merrill had disappeared to Sundermount, but Anders had refused to leave. He’d gone further underground in Kirkwall and Varric hadn’t seen him since that night. He wouldn’t be shocked if Justice made an appearance today, though.  
_

_Meredith had crowed when Hawke was taken, of course. After the battle with the Arishok everyone in Kirkwall knew that Hawke was an apostate. But Varric suspected that Meredith resented Hawke for how her heroism had stolen the spotlight.  
_

_But now...now she had an excuse to stop ignoring Hawke’s apostasy. Now, the former Champion of Kirkwall was going to be made Tranquil.  
_

_“We have to stop them!” Fenris hissed urgently. “There’s still time!”  
_

_Varric gripped the other man’s arm and felt the nervous tension that the elf was all but buzzing with. “We can’t,” he said bleakly. “You know that we can’t.”  
_

_Fenris swayed against him and Varric saw the glistening tears track down the elf’s face. “I’m getting closer,” Fenris said, jerking his arm away.  
_

_“Fenris-”  
_

_“I can’t let her-she…” the elf took a deep breath. “I want her to be able to see me, Varric. So she knows she is not alone.” He straightened his shoulders. “Are you coming?”  
_

_Wordlessly Varric nodded and the two of them moved forward until they were right in front of the scaffold. Hawke’s eyes widened as they approached and she gave the tiniest shake of her head.  
_

_“Saoirse Hawke, you stand before Kirkwall accused of defying the Chantry and practicing magic outside a circle.”  
_

_Hawke gave a bitter laugh. “I don’t recall anyone complaining when I was fighting the Arishok,” she spat. One of the Templars struck her across the face and Varric had to grab Fenris’ arm to keep him from leaping up onto the scaffold. Hawke was breathing hard when she lifted her head again and blood trickled from a cut on her lip. “Just get it over with, Meredith.”  
_

_The Knight Commander’s lip curled. “Very well,” she said.  
_

_Hawke squared her shoulders and for one, awful second, met Varric’s eyes. “I love you,” she mouthed. He said it back, not caring if the people around them heard. Her lips trembled as she smiled at him and then her gaze flickered to Fenris. She mouthed the same words to him and he sounded utterly broken when he said them back.  
_

_Varric could see that she’d begun to shake as the Templar began to recite the words of the rite and though he knew she was trying to be brave, her eyes widened when they approached her with the brand. Varric reached out and grabbed Fenris’ hand, his heart pounding. She didn’t struggle, didn’t try to pull away, but she **screamed** when the brand finally touched her forehead. The moment felt like it lasted forever before they pulled away and Hawke dropped to her knees.   
_

_Though he knew it was impossible, Varric found himself praying that the rite hadn’t worked. That Hawke would look up and wink at him and the three of them would give Meredith and her Templars hell.  
_

_But then she raised her head and Varric knew immediately that his dearest friend was gone. The spark that had made Hawke Hawke had been extinguished.  
_

_“No,” Fenris whispered. “Saoirse.” He turned away, gagging.  
_

_“It is done,” Meredith said and Varric would have given anything to strike the smug smile from her face. “Take her away, Alrik.”  
_

_The Templar strode forward and grabbed Hawke’s chin, giving her an evil smile. “Come, Champion,” he said. “Let’s see what...work we can find for you.”  
_

_Varric prided himself on having a sixth sense for his friends, and it was that that allowed him to catch Fenris’ elbow when the elf went to attack. “It’s not what she’d want,” he hissed at Fenris through his own tears. “She’s gone, Fenris.”_

She’s gone, Fenris.

Varric woke up with a start covered in a cold sweat. He knew right away where he was. He knew Hawke’s home as well as his own. But he had to see her. Had to know that she hadn’t been taken from him. He shook her awake as gently as he could, whispering her name again and again.  


“Varric?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “What is it?”  


“Look at me,” he whispered. “Please, Hawke, I need you to look at me.”  


She sat up and in the predawn light he was able to get a clear look at her forehead.  


No sunburst.  


She cocked her head, raising her eyebrow in such a purely Hawke expression that he was finally able to let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Are you ok?” she asked.   


He shook his head and pulled her against him tightly. She hugged him back with all her usual fierceness and it was so grounding that he could have cried. “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly. “Nightmare?”  


He nodded. “Hawke-”  


She pulled back and looked at him. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.   


He reached out and took her hands. “I need you to promise me something,” he said. Maker, his voice sounded rough.   


“Anything,” she said, squeezing his hands.  


He took a deep breath. “I know things are tough,” he said. “But I need you to promise me that you aren’t going to go and do something stupid. Promise me that you won’t provoke Meredith or do anything else that-” _would take you from me_. He trailed off, unable to say the words out loud.  


“Is this about the knife?” she asked.  


He nodded. “And your comment about being made Tranquil. _That_ was my nightmare, Hawke. Seeing Meredith do that to you. And you know she would, if you gave her the chance.”  


“Oh sweetheart,” she whispered, hugging him again. “I’m sorry. I was drunk and sad and in a shitty fucking place.” She pulled back and gave him a crooked smile. He could see the tears that were standing in her eyes. “I’m still hurting,” she said, swiping at them. “I think I will be for some time, but I promise you, I won’t do that to you, no matter how tempting it is in my darker moments.” Her lips quivered as she tried to smile at him. “Besides, if the Arishok didn’t kill me, I can’t let something as lame as _Meredith_ do it. It’s gotta be a dragon _at least_.”  


He let out a choked laugh and the two of them embraced again and Varric finally felt his heart begin to slow down. “I love you, Saoirse,” he said, pulling back so that he could kiss her forehead.   


“I love you too, Varric,” she said, kissing his cheek. “I promise that I won’t do anything stupid.” She gave a little chuff of laughter. “Well, stupider than usual, anyway.”  


“I’m going to hold you to that,” Varric said, collapsing back against the pillows.   


Hawke curled up against him again, her arm tight around his waist.   


“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said.  


He squeezed her against him and rested his cheek on top of her hair. She was safe. Her breath began to deepen and Varric let the comforting sound lull him into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is finally utter fluff. It's time for a wedding!


	17. Wedding Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aveline gets married and the event brings some feelings to the surface for Hawke and Fenris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF INCOMING :)

Hawke ran her hands down the front of her gown and had to smile. Edwina and Gordon had certainly spared no effort in crafting a beautiful gown for her and if she was honest with herself, she loved it. The deep red satin hugged her curves around the bodice before flaring out into a skirt that stopped at her calves. She had requested that it not be floor length, worried that if things went to shit (as they so often did in Kirkwall) she would be unable to fight. She flattered herself to think that the scarlet color with its gold accents was flattering, and she was even wearing a pair of small gold hoops in her ears though she normally eschewed jewelry. Isabela had shown her how to make her makeup just a little more bold, and she’d let the pirate talk her into a lip stain that was almost as deep a red as her dress. All together, she felt that she looked pretty good. Not great, but good.   


“Are you ready?” Aveline’s voice called from Hawke’s room where she had been dressing with Orana's help.   


Hawke grinned. “Yes! I can’t wait to see!”   


Aveline stepped out and Hawke gasped, staring up at her friend.   


Aveline looked gorgeous. Her shining red hair was braided with white flowers and small pearls into a plait that draped over her shoulder and contrasted with the shining silver of her gown. The gown bodice and kirtle were silver damask that, when Hawke got a good look at it, she realized had been embroidered to resemble chainmail. The sleeves, collar, and every other skirt panel were a sumptuous gray velvet. Taken together, Aveline looked like a warrior queen straight out of one of Varric’s books.   


“Oh Aveline,” Hawke breathed, her eyes tearing up. “You look so beautiful!”  


Aveline blushed and grinned at her. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Hawke! Now let’s go! I don’t want to be late to my own wedding!”  


They hurried to the waiting carriage and Hawke helped her friend get settled before climbing up herself. Aveline was staring out the carriage window with an odd look on her face, and Hawke reached out and took her hands. “No cold feet, I hope,” Hawke teased gently. “I don’t know that I can help you out on another date, Aveline.”  


Aveline chuckled but then grew quiet. “I was just thinking about my first wedding,” she said softly. “About Wesley. Is that odd?”  


Hawke squeezed her hands. "I think it would be odder if you weren't," she said.  


"It isn't too maudlin?" Aveline asked. 

"I don't think it has to be," Hawke said. "He's an important part of you, Aveline." 

“He was a good man,” Aveline said. “He loved me. I know that he would be happy I found love again.” She glanced towards Hawke with tears in her eyes. "You and I know better than most that the most joyful moments often come at a cost," she said quietly. "But that should make us all the more determined to enjoy them." 

Hawke pulled out a handkerchief from the little reticule she wore on her wrist and dabbed at Aveline’s eyes before her makeup could run. “I'm damn well determined to make sure you enjoy today, Aveline," she said. "You've earned it." 

Aveline squared her shoulders as the chantry came into view. “We both have.” she said.  


Once the carriage rolled to a stop, Hawke handed Aveline down and gave her a quick once over. “You’re so beautiful,” she said, giving Aveline a hug. “I’m so happy for you.”  


Aveline hugged her back with all her usual fierceness. “We have been through so much together, Hawke,” she said. “I’m glad that we get to share something good.”  


“Me too,” Hawke agreed before offering Aveline her arm. “Now let’s go see what your husband to be thinks of your new dress.”  


Aveline laughed and together the two women made their way into the chantry. Even from the back it was obvious that Aveline had had the desired effect on Guardsman Donnic. The man swayed a little on his feet and his best man steadied him with a chuckle. As they walked down the aisle, a flash of white caught Hawke’s attention and when she glanced over she saw Fenris staring at her, his mouth open in a little “o”. She blushed and turned her attention back towards Donnic, but inwardly she was warmed by the reaction. She’d hoped that all her efforts would have some impact.  


When they arrived at the altar Hawke saw that there were tears in Donnic’s eyes and she felt her own throat grow tight. The two of them loved each other so much. The wedding ceremony itself was short and sweet, but Hawke had found herself tearing up more than once. Aveline and Donnic’s eyes were absolutely glued to one another as though they were the only people in the entire chantry, and when Sebastian pronounced them husband and wife they kissed with a passion that Hawke was sure would be excellent fuel for one of Varric’s books. They both looked a little breathless when they pulled back amidst a great deal of cheering, and Aveline’s cheeks were so red that her freckles stood out boldly even with her makeup.   


Hawke followed as Donnic led his new bride down the aisle and to the carriage that would take them back to the Hawke estate and as she did she snuck a quick glance at Fenris. His eyes met hers immediately and she felt the warmth creep up her neck and onto her face. The look on his face was one of such open longing that it almost took her breath away. She wanted more than anything to go and take his hand, but she had a party to host.   


Aveline and Donnic’s carriage was due to make a lap around Hightown, a tradition normally reserved for the peerage. However, several of the nobles had prevailed upon the heroic Guard Captain who’d stood at the Champion’s side against the Qunari to uphold the ancient tradition. There had been a great deal said about morale and a city healing from its wounds. When put in the context of the city and her duty, Aveline had been hard-pressed to argue.   


However, their brief absence meant that it was possible for Hawke to hurry home and make sure things were ready. During the ceremony a horde of laborers, lead by Orana, had put the finishing touches on the decorations and Hawke had to admit that her home, like her, cleaned up pretty good.   


All of the furniture had been polished to a shine, and the floors had been swept and mopped and oiled so that the wood glowed under the light of innumerable parchment lanterns suspended from the ceiling. The windows had been scrubbed and then strung with garlands of silverdust evergreen and clear glass beads that glistened like raindrops when they caught the light. More garlands of evergreen had been strung with fiery red beads and laid artfully on the tables that groaned with food and drink, as well as along the mantle of the fireplace where Copper usually lay. Sandal had been excited to invite the “good doggie” to join him in he and Bodahn’s suite, and Hawke was just as happy to know that the friendly mabari wouldn’t step on any toes, figuratively and literally.  


Hawke checked on the musicians and on the special display of marigolds she had set up before changing out of the satin heels she’d worn for the ceremony into flats of the same color. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to participate in her surprise for Aveline with them on. She was definitely not that skilled or that graceful. Guests had begun to trickle in at that point and Hawke took a deep breath to steel herself before hurrying downstairs. She smiled with relief at the sight of Varric. He and Fenris were standing by the bar chatting, though if it hadn't been for his hair, Hawke wouldn't have recognized Fenris. She hadn't gotten a good look at him in the chantry, something she was privately grateful for now. She probably would have tripped in her heels if she had. He was wearing a tailored doublet with red slashing down the arms and a pair of fitted black breeches that had been tucked into polished black boots. He had on a black belt with intricate silver toolwork and from where she was standing, Hawke could see that her crest hung proudly over his hip. The understated finery suited him and she realized when Varric caught her eye and grinned that he’d caught her staring. She hurried down the stairs to meet them and almost gasped at the heat in Fenris’ eyes when he looked at her.   


“House is looking great, Hawke,” Varric said when the awkward silence dragged on a moment too long. “Glad to see all that money you fronted was put to good use.”  


“The house is not the only thing that looks lovely tonight,” Fenris said quietly. He blushed to his ears the next moment and Hawke looked up at him wide-eyed. She was about to respond when she heard people cheering Aveline and Donnic’s names.   


“Go,” Fenris said, giving her a shy smile. “Perhaps we shall talk later?”  


“Absolutely,” Hawke promised before hurrying away to where two lines had formed on either side of the front door. As the couple entered her guests made a bridge with their hands for them to pass under, cheering. Hawke and Guardsman Seely, Donnic’s best man, formed the end of the archway and were embraced by the newlyweds when they finally arrived. Hawke led them into the great room and heard the hearty guffaw from Donnic as he caught sight of the display of marigolds. Aveline chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re lucky I love you,” the guard captain said before pulling her into a tight hug.   


“I love you too,” Hawke said, squeezing her tightly. “Congratulations, Aveline.”  


As soon as she’d let go of Aveline, Donnic had caught her up into a tight embrace. “Hawke,” he said, stepping back with his hands on her shoulders. “You’ve been a true friend to us both. And this…” he gestured around. “This is incredible. It’s everything my wife deserves, and I’m grateful to you for giving it to her.”  


“I think _you’re_ everything she deserves, Donnic,” Hawke said with a smile. She turned back to Aveline. “I have one more present for you, Aveline,” Hawke said, feeling a little flutter of trepidation in her belly.   


“Hawke-” Aveline said, her eyes growing shiny. “After everything-”  


“It’s just a little thing,” Hawke said, nodding to Varric. He motioned to the musicians and they began to play the lively strains of the reel that they had all shared in the Hanged Man. She turned back to Aveline and saw her eyes widen. “I know that Wesley would be so happy for you, Aveline. I thought that a reel would be a good way to celebrate where you came from and the wonderful future I know you and Donnic will have.”   


Aveline threw her arms around Hawke and squeezed her so hard she thought that her ribs might crack again. Hawke grinned and hugged her back almost as fiercely. “Congratulations,” she whispered. 

Aveline pulled back and wiped her eyes. “Thank you, Saoirse,” she said with a huge, goofy smile. She looked at her new husband. “I can teach you,” she said.  


He raised a bushy eyebrow and then did a little leap that ended in the starting steps of the reel. He finished with a flourish and held his hand out to a stunned Aveline. “I believe that was Fenris’ present,” he said with a grin. “And here you thought we were just playing Diamondback.”  


Aveline let out a joyful laugh and hugged him tightly before grabbing his hand and all but dragging him down to where the lines were forming. Isabela had grabbed Fenris and Merrill had grabbed Sebastian who looked almost as excited as Aveline. She supposed that for a prince a reel would have been a fun diversion from the usual court dances. Varric raised an eyebrow and held out his hand to her and Hawke had to smile back at him as she took her place. The drummer, playing the flat drum known as the bodhran began first, with the fiddler and the piper joining in after a few measures. Aveline and Donnic were the first to spin and leap their way into the center of the circle that formed, and Hawke had to admit that Donnic’s lessons with Fenris had clearly worked. He kept pace with Aveline like he’d been attending Fereldan country dances for his whole life, even lifting her around the waist at the appropriate moment.   


The dance continued as the couples came together and then spun away, changing partners after each lift. There was nothing dignified about the proceedings as people laughed and clapped and cheered each other on. Varric performed admirably, even lifting Hawke when it was their turn. She found herself laughing in a way that she hadn’t since before the Deep Roads. She wished, with a little pang, that Carver could be there. Even he would have had fun.  


When Varric set her down she turned to take the hands of her next partner and found herself face to face with Fenris. He smiled shyly at her and took her hands and she let him lead her off. The two found themselves at the center of the two lines, twirling each other around to the claps and cheers of the other dancers. Then they spun away again and Fenris pulled her a little closer than the dance required. His jade eyes held hers throughout their turn and after what he’d said to her earlier she found herself feeling breathless in a way that had nothing to do with the pace of the reel. He lifted her and the feeling of his hands tightly clasped around her waist made her shiver with the memories it brought back. She thought she caught a glimpse of a similar desire in his eyes before she was twirled away by Sebastian. She heard a joyful laugh and saw Varric twirling Aveline before handing her off to her husband. The guard captain’s honest face was exultant and Hawke felt tears in her eyes. She was so grateful for her friend’s happiness and so glad that she got to be a part of it.   


She lost track of how long they reeled before she heard the telltale groan of the air being let out of a bagpipe. “Piper needs whisky!” the woman yelled, setting her instrument down. A string quartet began to play quietly in the background and people began to mill about, talking. A group of young nobles approached her, all eager to talk about her fight with the Arishok. She suppressed a sigh and tried to smile. She and Aveline had managed to keep the guest list pretty selective, but there was no doubting how big of an event Aveline’s wedding was to the city. There were nobles with deeper pockets than even hers whose money was instrumental to keeping the guards a functional unit. And now, with Meredith constantly tightening her grasp on Kirkwall, it was extra important that the guards have the finances to retain their autonomy. Hawke sighed inwardly and forced a smile at the pompous young man who was talking. The things she did for love.

****

 _My heart_ , Fenris thought, gasping aloud as the music began to play and the chantry doors opened. He was grateful that it was a wedding and that he wasn’t the only one. The rest of the gasps were for Aveline, which was deserved, and he made a point of telling Aveline later how lovely she looked, but as the two women came arm-in-arm down the aisle, he had eyes only for Hawke.   


She was wearing a dress that was simple in its design, with a form fitting bodice, long sleeves, and a skirt that came down to her calves. But the color was a deep scarlet that glowed against her dark skin. The golden embroidery around the high collar and slightly revealing neckline matched her eyes and to him she looked like some sort of ethereal creature that had stepped out of a bard’s song. She was smiling in a way that he hadn’t seen in a very long time and it made his heart ache. She deserved to be that happy all the time. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and he stared at her for so long that she caught him. Her cheeks colored very prettily and he found himself gripping the bench in front of him as the two women walked by.   


When Sebastian bade them all to sit, Fenris had gotten a reassuring pat on the knee from Varric. The damn dwarf saw everything. He tried to pay attention to the ceremony, he really did, but his eyes kept straying to Hawke. She was grinning broadly and it made her whole face light up. He wanted so badly to be the one to make her smile like that again. He found himself wondering how she’d look in a wedding gown.   


Still, his own yearning couldn’t keep him from feeling profound joy for Aveline and Donnic. Their love for each other was written all over their faces and when Sebastian pronounced them husband and wife their kiss was so passionate it made his heart ache. As they came back down the aisle Hawke met his eyes and gave him a tentative smile. He had to get her alone to tell her, if nothing else, that she was beautiful.   


“Careful, Broody,” Varric murmured to him as they followed outside. “Someone’s going to step on your tongue if you don’t watch out.”  


Fenris shot him a look, but the dwarf just clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. They participated in a portion of Aveline and Donnic’s “Victory Lap” as Varric was calling it, before making their way to Hawke’s estate. Varric said something about knowing Hawke would be anxious hosting and Fenris wasn’t sorry to get a chance to see her before her hosting duties absorbed her for the night. He found himself staring as they entered her home. He had attended plenty of fancy parties as Danarius’ slave, but they had never felt like this. The countless expensive lanterns, the garlands that mirrored the colors of Aveline’s hair and gown, the plentiful food and drink, all of it spoke to great wealth. However, it wasn’t the cold, impersonal show of wealth that he had come to associate with such gatherings. The lanterns made things feel intimate, and the greenery felt simple and rustic and served to make the space feel comforting and alive. He and Varric stopped at the bar and each picked up a small tumbler of whisky, which Fenris was grateful to have to steady his nerves. He’d had a part to play in the portion of the festivities that were coming next and he desperately wanted it to go well. He and Varric were talking quietly about the ceremony when Varric grinned over Fenris’ shoulder. Fenris turned and found his breath taken away for the second time that day by the sight of Hawke coming down the stairs from her room. She’d changed only her shoes, and yet seeing her in her home, amidst the evergreens and the glowing lanterns, made her look even more beautiful than she had in the chantry. He found himself unable to speak as she approached them and she was oddly quiet herself.  


“House is looking great, Hawke,” Varric said and Fenris knew that he was being wilfully obtuse about the silence. “Glad to see all that money you fronted was put to good use.”  


His feelings made their way from his heart to his lips before his brain could edit them. “The house is not the only thing that looks lovely tonight,” he said, then felt heat creeping up his neck to his ears.  


Hawke’s eyes widened and the evident surprise on her face made him ache. After all he had put her through, he could hardly blame her, but he wanted her to know how beautiful she was to him. He resolved to find a way to get her alone if for no other reason than to tell her.  


Unfortunately, with how busy things were he didn’t get a chance to speak with her before the band started to play. He joined in the reel, it was only fair as he’d been the one to teach Donnic, and he knew that it would mean he’d get to dance with Hawke, however briefly. He knew that he was holding her closer than the energetic dance required, but having her in his arms felt so good. Lifting her, tightening his hands on her and feeling her body had brought back memories that robbed him of his breath in a way that even the reel had not, and he had been at loath to release her to her next partner.  


He had reeled with the rest of them until the piper had announced her need for whisky and the other musicians began to play. He’d hoped to approach her for a dance or perhaps to speak privately, but she was immediately swarmed by eager young nobles anxious to talk to The Champion. He sighed and told himself to be patient, opting to approach the group and stand near her for support. She smiled when she caught sight of him, but the expression was a strained one. Nonetheless, she stepped back slightly to make room for him next to her and perhaps it was his own wishful thinking, but it felt as though she relaxed fractionally with his presence. Soon Varric joined them as well, and he saw even more of the tension leave her shoulders.  


However, as the “polite conversation” continued, Fenris felt himself beginning to lose patience. An alarming number of the young nobles -- who, naturally, had been safe in their own estates at the time -- wanted specific, gory details of her fight with the Arishok. Fenris knew that Hawke had respected the intimidating qunari, and that killing him had been a necessary evil in her eyes. Add to that her devastating injuries and long recovery and while the fight was one of Kirkwall’s favorite topics of conversation, it was one of her least. Over the course of the next hour, he watched as the muscles in her jaw grew tighter and tighter with each new set of inane questions. Just when he thought that she might burst from frustration he heard the beginning strains of a waltz.   


“Would you like to dance, Hawke?” he blurted out, interrupting a handsome young man who had decided to demonstrate how a fencing technique he’d learned in Antiva would have shortened the duel considerably, by his estimation.  


“Maker, yes,” breathed Hawke and Fenris swallowed hard. _Those_ words in that tone brought back an alarming wave of memories.   


He held out his hand, but the obnoxious noble stepped between them. “My lady,” the boy said, “surely this...nameless elf is hardly a worthy first partner for someone of your stature.”  


“He’s not nameless,” Hawke said, immediately leaping to his defence. “His name is Fenris and I can think of no one more worthy. While you were practicing your fencing, he was there, fighting at my side.”  


Fenris felt his cheeks get abruptly hot as his throat threatened to close entirely. After all that had happened, after all the times he had hurt her, he felt unworthy of such kindness and loyalty.   


“Ah yes,” the boy sneered. “Fenris of house…?” the pregnant pause more than made the point. Fenris, as far as he knew, had no second name. He was a slave, property. He was lucky he hadn’t gone his whole life just called “boy”. Still he wasn’t willing to let himself be cowed. He squared his shoulders and looked the other man in the eyes. He opened his mouth, and heard two familiar voices speak in unison.   


“Tethras!”  


“Vallen!”  


Fenris blinked and stared. Varric was glaring and Aveline had materialized and was looking murderous. Varric smiled, though the expression was wolfish. “Isn’t that right, Fenris?” Varric prodded.  


Fenris swallowed the hard lump that had formed in his throat and nodded. “It is,” he said. “Fenris Tethras-Vallen.” He met the boy’s eyes, lifting his chin just slightly. At that moment, he felt the equal of any man. He could have looked King Alistair Therin right in the eyes.   


“Indeed,” said Hawke, making no effort to hide her grin. “Now if you’ll excuse me and Master Tethras-Vallen, I believe he promised me a dance.” She held out her hand and Fenris took it without hesitation. They walked together to the dance floor, where Fenris swept her into his arms. He loved to dance. It was silly, and frivolous, but perhaps that was why. His life with Denarius had been so devoid of levity and joy. He’d watched the dances of the magisters and during his rare moments alone he’d occasionally find himself trying the steps. He was a warrior with a warrior’s aptitude for memorizing complex patterns and his body was accustomed to falling into rhythms without difficulty. Dancing came surprisingly easily to him.  


Unfortunately, it was not so for Hawke.   


It wasn’t that she wasn’t graceful, because she could be. He loved how she moved, in all ways, but she struggled to get out of her head and let anyone else lead. Still, he felt some of the tension in her lower back ease as he pulled her close. He wanted all of it gone. He wanted to feel her calm and relaxed and safe. As he looked down into her eyes, he wanted more than anything to press his lips to hers and tell her what a fool he’d been. He wanted to beg her to forget the words he’d said in front of her fireplace. To forget that he’d given Jacob his blessing. He wanted to tell her that her place was in his arms knowing that she was utterly and completely loved and cherished. _Enjoy this while you can_ , he told himself, a refrain he’d uttered many times as a slave. _You don’t know that you will ever have your arms around her again._ He must have tightened his grip, because he felt an answering squeeze to his right hand. His heart was pounding in his ears. He looked down and saw that she was still watching him. He leaned in and put his lips near her ear. “Saoirse, you...you really do look lovely,” he said before he could lose his nerve. “You took my breath away when I saw you in the chantry.” He felt, rather than heard her gasp at his words. She pulled back and looked up at him, a questioning look on her face.   


“Do you mean that?” she asked.  


“I am not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean,” he teased gently. “As you may recall.”  


The corner of her lips quirked into a smile. “I do,” she said. “Thank you, Fenris. That-means a lot to me, coming from you.” She looked away, then back up at him from under her eyelashes. “You are the most handsome man here tonight,” she said, the tops of her cheeks getting red. “You should dress up more often.”  


“I feel that this finery would be rather wasted on the giant spiders and Tal Vashoth that are our usual social interaction,” Fenris said wryly. “But I shall keep that in mind.”  


He was rewarded by the first laugh he had heard from her since the reel and then, then she leaned into him and rested her cheek against his chest and he thought that his heart might burst with joy. He’d never expected to hold her that way again. If he was honest with himself, he’d been half expecting her to turn him down for the dance. But here she was, lovely, and warm, and for that brief moment, his. They moved together in an easy rhythm, but the song ended much too soon and he felt a lump form in his throat. He wasn’t ready to let her go. “Would you like to go on a walk?” she asked. “I could use some air.”  


“I would like that very much,” he said.   


She glanced towards where Aveline and Donnic were laughing with a group of guards. “I don’t want to interrupt,” Hawke said, smiling as she watched them. “Let me tell Varric where we’re going so that they can find me if they need me.” She hurried over to where the dwarf was chatting with Isabela and Fenris blushed when Varric peered around Hawke and raised an eyebrow. He nodded and made a shooing motion with his hand and when Hawke turned her back, Isabela gave Fenris an enthusiastic thumbs up. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself and Hawke gave him an inquiring look when she reached him. He offered her his arm and her eyes widened a little as she reached out and took it. She led him towards her office, where the two of them climbed the short staircase and stepped out on the balcony. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.   


“Are you all right?” he asked.  


She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “I am now,” she said. “I just needed to get out of the thick of things for a moment.”  


He smiled warmly at her. “Have you ever been out of the thick of things, Hawke?”  


“I’d rather fight those giant spiders than listen to another empty-headed dandy tell me how I should have fought the Arishok,” she said with some heat. “There’s the thick of things and the _thick of things_ , you know?”  


“I do,” he said. “And I agree. The spiders are less treacherous.”   


She laughed quietly and for a moment, just a moment, things between them felt how they had used to. “Thank you for coming out with me,” she said, taking a step closer to him when things grew quiet once again. “It is nice to just... _be_ for a minute.”   


He took a deep breath and met her eyes. “There are few pleasures greater than speaking with a beautiful woman,” he said softly. “I was glad to join you.”   


She gave a little gasp that brought his heart up into his throat. She looked so vulnerable. All he wanted to do was hold her.  


“Are you...well, Hawke?” Fenris asked, looking down into her eyes. It wasn't quite holding her, but he hoped it at least showed her that he still worried about her. That her well-being still occupied a prominent place in his mind. “We haven’t gotten much chance to talk since…”  


She raised an eyebrow. “Since I made an ass of myself the night Jacob and I ended things,” she said.   


He winced. “You didn’t-”  


“I did,” she said, shaking her head. “I should have waited until the morning. I was just drunk and sad.” She turned and rested her arms on the balcony railing, staring out over the city.   


“I think anyone would have been, in that scenario,” Fenris said, stepping close enough to her that his thigh touched her dress. “I am sorry that I was not more supportive in the weeks immediately following.”  


She snorted. “Hard to be supportive when someone’s avoiding you,” she said bluntly.  


He flinched, glad that she was staring out over Kirkwall and missed it. “Because it was my fault,” he said, feeling the familiar weight of guilt settling into his belly.  


She turned, shaking her head. “It wasn’t, Fenris,” she said softly. “Not..not in the way you think, anyway. Jacob didn’t leave me because he was jealous of you, or some such nonsense. We ended things because after your conversation with him I...I wasn’t happy to hear that you’d given us your blessing. It felt like being...I don’t know...discarded?” She shrugged one shoulder in such a defeated gesture it felt like someone had punched him in the gut. How could he make her understand that nothing could have been farther from the truth? “That it hurt me so badly...that told both me and Jacob all we needed to know. I could never love him the way he loved me. Otherwise I would have been happy to know you’d given your blessing, rather than heartbroken.”  


He blinked down at her, taken aback. “Hawke,” he rasped. Unable to resist any longer, he reached out and took her hands. “I just wanted you to be happy, that is all. Jacob...he can give you so much more than I can. He is a Count, he has land, a home you love, he can protect you from the templars.” He felt the familiar pang of anger and sadness. “He is a free man,” he said softly. “I have none of those things. I can give you none of those things. You deserve more.”  


“I don’t want more,” Hawke said, finally turning and looking at him. “I hate that I figured that out at the cost of Jacob’s feelings, but it’s the truth, Fenris. I don’t want or need anything more than this.”  


“This?” he managed to rasp despite the sudden dryness in his throat.   


“This,” she said, taking another step closer to him. “Whatever that needs to mean until you feel safe.” She glanced down, uncertainty suddenly filling her face. “Unless that isn’t what you want,” she said. “If you have moved on or-or just don’t-”  


He surprised himself by kissing her then, clutching her to himself as hard as he could. She moaned against his lips and threw her arms around his neck, pressing her body against him. He knew that he shouldn’t, that he should _wait_ until he was free and no longer broken, but hearing her words, seeing the way she looked at him, he had to show her that _she_ was what his heart beat for every day. He gently traced her lips with the tip of his tongue, groaning when she parted them, eagerly accepting him. Her hands were in his hair and the sensation was so familiar, so beloved, that he found himself tightening his arms around her as the flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm him. They were both breathing hard when they broke the kiss, and he leaned his forehead against hers, luxuriating in the feeling of her warm fingers threading through his hair.   


“Hawke,” he whispered. “Does it _feel_ as though I have moved on?”  


She shivered in his arms and though there were tears in her eyes when she looked up at him, there was also a mischievous smile on her lips. “I’m not sure,” she breathed. “Could you repeat that?”  


"Gladly," he murmured. This time he took her chin in his fingertips and tilted her face up, allowing himself a moment to look at her and luxuriate in the way she was looking at him. Then he pressed his lips to hers gently at first, his hands sliding up to cup her cheeks. She melted against him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She let him lead, as she always did, not asking for anything more than he gave and he wished that he was brave enough to tell her that he had never stopped loving her. Instead he tried to pour all of his feelings into the kiss, pressing her to him with one hand on her lower back and the other on her cheek. Her lips were parted beneath his and as he kissed her more deeply he felt the familiar stirring of his desire for her. He wanted to take her somewhere private and take away any doubt that she was all that he wanted, but he was terrified that it would go as it had the last time. Regretfully he broke the kiss, though he did not let her go.  


“Was that...all right?” he asked, caressing her cheek with a hand that shook.  


She glanced up at him and he recognized the sassy curl of her lips. “Like...in terms of technique?” she asked and it was such a terribly Hawke thing to say that he let out a most unromantic snort.   


“It was more than all right,” she said softly. “As long as it was for you.”  


“'All right' is inadequate,” he said softly, smoothing the flat of his palm up and down her back. _This is the most whole I have felt in over a year._  


She made a soft sound of agreement and wrapped her arms around him again, nuzzling underneath his chin while he held her. He was searching for the words to tell her how sorry he was for how he had left things, for the time that they had spent without each other, when he heard the sound of the balcony door opening.   


“Hawke?” Varric was saying. “It’s time to cut the-” he trailed off with a chuckle. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said gently. “But Aveline needs you, Hawke.”  


“Of course,” Hawke said, taking a step back from Fenris. He ached to reach out and pull her back against him, but he let her go. She smiled up at him and she looked so lovely that for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. “Talk later?” she murmured.   


He nodded, returning her smile.   


She grinned at Varric and hurried back inside. The sound of her skirt swishing had scarcely faded before Varric’s smile faded and his expression turned stern. He closed the distance between the two of them. “What was that?” Varric hissed. “I swear to you, Fenris, if you hurt her again-”  


Fenris held up his hands. “Varric-I...I think that we just...that we are…”  


Varric’s eyes widened and he looked both surprised and relieved. “Did you two finally sort things out?” he asked.  


“It was a...start, I think,” Fenris said, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time. “I-I am not sure how things will proceed, exactly, but…” he trailed off with a shrug, realizing that he had a big, foolish smile on his face.  


“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen either of you smile like that,” Varric said, now smiling warmly at him.   


Fenris nodded, still smiling.  


“I’m glad that the two of you are finally seeing sense,” Varric said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Don’t get in your head about it this time, Broody.” He nodded towards the doors. “Now, come on. Let’s go have some cake.”  


Fenris nodded and together they went down in time to see Aveline and Donnic feed each other their wedding cake. Everyone cheered and the revelries resumed over cake and Antivan Champagne. Every now and then he and Hawke made eye contact and the way she smiled at him each time made him feel as though his heart was going to explode out of his chest with joy. She was too busy hosting for the two of them to get anymore time together until the end of the night, when the last guest had gone.   


She plopped down on the bench by her front door with a great sigh. “Maker,” she breathed. “Remind me never to do that again!”  


Fenris sat next to her, smiling. “You cannot pretend with me, Hawke,” he teased. “I know how much you enjoyed doing that for Aveline and Donnic.”  


“That part I loved,” she ceded. “They looked so happy.”  


“They are lucky to have found one another,” he said. _As are we._   


She glanced at him so sharply that he was almost certain she’d heard his thoughts. “I-I should go to bed,” she said quietly. “There’s a lot of clean up to do in the morning and if I’m not up early enough Orana and Bodahn will try to tackle it by themselves.” She gave him another shy smile that made him want to wrap his arms protectively around her and never let her go. “I’m just...I guess I’m not ready to say goodnight yet.”   


“Nor I,” Fenris admitted. He was struck with an idea and before he could “get in his head about it” he rose and offered her his hand. “Perhaps we could enjoy one last dance?” he said.  


Her lovely eyes widened and she nodded, taking his hand and letting him pull her against him. She rested her head against his chest and he leaned his cheek against her hair, inhaling deeply. The light, fruity scent of her hair brought back a flood of memories and he found himself holding her more tightly. He wasn’t sure how long they danced, but it felt like a lifetime and only a few seconds when she gently stepped back.   


“I should go up,” she whispered, her golden eyes searching his. “I’m afraid that if I don’t, I’m not going to be able to let you go.” She smiled a little sadly. “And I _know_ we aren’t ready for that.”  


He nodded regretfully and took one of her hands in his. As grandly as any member of the peerage, he swept low over her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. Her giggle made him smile, as did her attempt at a courtesy. With a final squeeze of her hand, Fenris took his leave, letting her heavy front door shut behind him. He leaned against it, unable to keep the smile from his face. Maybe things would finally be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For real though, y'all. I know this fic tends on the darker side, so I was really excited to just write some honest-to-goodness fluff. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. Everyone stay safe out there! <3


	18. A Dream, A Walk, and a Long Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris has a nightmare brought on by Aveline's wedding that leads to a frank discussion about the future with Hawke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING: Violence against children and implied sexual assault**

_The Chantry was hung with what looked like hundreds of flowers, befitting the wedding of the Champion of Kirkwall. She came down the aisle leaning on Varric’s arm and from his place at the front, Fenris had the perfect view of the flowing white gown that contrasted beautifully with her dark skin. She smiled brilliantly as she stepped forward and took Fenris’ hand and then Sebastian was pronouncing them husband and wife. Fenris swept her off into a dance, clutching her to him as she smiled up at him.  
_

_Tumbling her down to her bed, their bed and making love to her, the flowers from their wedding still in her hair. Touching her, caressing her, knowing that now nothing could tear them apart. The pride he felt at becoming known as Fenris Hawke. Quiet nights reading together with his hand over her swollen belly. The tiny cries of their firstborn, a daughter with his eyes and Hawke’s curls. Teaching his daughter how to fight with a tiny wooden practice sword and seeing his own personality reflected in her quiet seriousness.  
_

_More nights with Hawke, exploring each other, sharing their passion. Hawke playfully shoving him away from her as he kissed her belly, round with their second child. A boy this time, with Hawke’s golden eyes, sense of humor, and her magic. Feeling no fear as he watched her raise him to be another irreverent Hawke apostate.  
_

_Watching their children grow and play, teaching them how to read and write and to roll their eyes at their mother’s jokes. The love in Hawke’s eyes as she commented on the children’s bond, glad that they had an easier relationship than she did with her siblings. The sounds of their laughter as they chased each other and a gray-muzzled Copper around the estate.  
_

_Lying in bed at night holding his wife, nuzzling into her hair and chuckling when she warned him that if he got her with child again she was going to light his nethers on fire. Waking before her in the morning to make her tea and breakfast, enlisting the children to pick flowers from the garden to put on the tray. The group of them sitting on the bed together and eating while the children chattered and Hawke watched them all with a smile that lit up her lovely face.  
_

_Their family.  
_

_His family.  
_

_His home.  
_

_The sound of glass shattering and Hawke screaming as Danarius’ men broke down the door to the estate. Copper’s snarls and then an awful yelp as he died trying to protect the children. Their eldest holding her tiny sword just like Fenris had taught her and standing in front of her little brother as the mercenaries held Hawke back. Her furious screams as she struggled to get free.  
_

_“Kill them, my little wolf.”  
_

_His daughter’s wide, terrified eyes as she looked up at him and raised her sword hesitantly. “Papa?”  
_

_He had made it quick. Hawke’s screams drowned out the children’s as he slaughtered them both and above it all he heard Danarius laughing. And then there was his beloved Hawke on her knees, her arms across the broken remains of their family as she sobbed, not even noticing as Danarius’ men advanced on her. She hadn’t fought them at all, not even as they did unspeakable things to her while Fenris and his aging master watched.  
_

_She whispered his name once, just before he plunged his hand into her chest, and he saw the unmasked relief in her eyes as the life flickered out of them._  


He woke up sobbing and retching, unable to get the image of their children’s broken little bodies out of his mind. Was he truly such a monster, such a pathetic, easily controlled _beast_ that he could sire two beautiful children with the woman he loved and then murder them on an order from a man whom he hated?   


He didn’t even know their names.   


He had to talk to Varric.   


The dwarf had opened the door despite the ungodly hour and wordlessly motioned for Fenris to take a seat while he stoked the fire. “What’s wrong, Fenris?” Varric asked.  


Fenris stared into the flames for a few minutes before responding. “I had a...nightmare.” The word didn’t feel strong enough. He raked his hands through his hair. “And I...fasta vass....”  


“What was it about?” Varric asked, pouring wine for them both. He plopped down in the seat across from Fenris and handed him one of the glasses.   


“Hawke,” Fenris said miserably. “We got married.”  


Varric’s eyebrow went up, but he didn’t say anything.  


“We were so happy,” Fenris said. “Maker, Varric, we, we had children…” Fenris closed his eyes and saw their perfect little faces. “Our eldest was a girl,” he said softly. “Our youngest, a boy. Our-” his voice broke. “Our daughter...she had my eyes and I was teaching her to fight with a sword. Our son was a mage, like Hawke, with her eyes. Both of them had her curls. They loved each other. They loved each other so much.”   


He stared down into his wine glass and felt the warmth of tears on his cheeks. “And then Danarius came and ordered me to kill them.”  


“Fenris-”  


“And I _did_ , Varric!” Fenris managed to grit out. “I slaughtered them, my own children. My daughter died trying to protect her little brother, my _son_ from _me_! Hawke watched me murder our children and I did nothing while Danarius and his men tormented her. And then I-I ripped out her heart and Varric, she was _relieved_ when I did.”  


Varric was watching him, his face carefully impassive. “Well, shit,” the dwarf said softly. “That’s awful, Fenris.”  


“I should have left Kirkwall,” Fenris said, lurching to his feet and beginning to pace. “I should have left years ago. And Maker forgive me, I never should have kissed her at the wedding. I should have-”  


“Stop.” Varric’s voice was gentle, but firm, and Fenris took a shuddering breath. “First of all, if you’d run, I would have hunted you down if for no other reason than to kick your ass.”  


Fenris closed his eyes. “Varric-”  


“Secondly, while I won’t tell you that isn’t an awful dream, it _was_ just a dream, Fenris.”  


Fenris swallowed hard. “It felt so real,” he said softly. “And I-I cannot deny that there is truth in it. I have betrayed people I cared about before. People who were good to me.”  


“And what happened when you did?” Varric asked gently. “It drove you to flee Danarius for once and for all. You came here where you met us. I don’t want to downplay what happened with the Fog Warriors, Fenris, because it’s an important part of you. But you were with them for a few months. You’ve been with us for five years. You have a family who loves you here. You fell in love here. Your circumstances aren’t the same as they were in Seheron.”  


Fenris drank his wine in one gulp and sank back down into the chair. He knew that there was truth to his friend’s words. He was not the same man that he had been five years ago. But the fear still lingered. The fact that he had a family and a woman he loved meant that there was so much more to lose.  


Varric’s clever eyes found his. “Broody, people get weird about weddings. And you and Hawke had your...moment tonight. Remember what I said about getting out of your head? You have to try to let it go and-”  


“How?” Fenris asked softly. “Danarius is still out there, Varric. I am not yet a free man. How could I have kissed Hawke knowing that he could return at any moment and-and…”   


“If he does, your _family_ will stand with you,” Varric said. “But Fenris, I think you need to give yourself more credit. I don’t see you ever turning on any of us, especially Hawke. I just don’t see your loyalty being broken that easily.” He shrugged, shaking his head. “I know that in that situation, I would trust you with my life.”  


Fenris stopped pacing, staring down at Varric. “I-I fear you give me too much credit,” he managed to rasp past the lump in his throat.   


“You don’t give yourself enough,” Varric said firmly. “You are a good man, Fenris. I hope that you realize it before it’s too late.” He glanced at the window and sighed. “Why don’t you stay here tonight, Fenris? You’re looking a little wild around the eyes."  


“I don’t want to impose-”  


Varric chuckled. “A little late for that, Broody.” But the warmth of his smile took any sting out of the words. “Go on. Hop in bed and I’ll be along in a few minutes. You reminded me of something I wanted to write down.”  


Fenris knew that it was no good arguing and inwardly, he was grateful for the invitation. The nightmare had been so real and Varric’s presence was one of the few things that always seemed to ground him. He crawled into the dwarf’s bed, doing his best to take up as little space as possible. The coverlet smelled like Varric, a mixture of the expensive ink he favored, whiskey, and his cedarwood soap. It was comforting on a visceral level and Fenris immediately felt himself begin to relax.   


“Goodnight, Broody,” Varric said from his desk.  


“Goodnight, Varric,” Fenris replied sleepily. “And thank you.” He closed his eyes and soon the scratching of Varric’s pen lulled him into a deep, mercifully dreamless sleep.

****

Hawke hurried up the stairs towards the Hanged Man and paused for a moment outside, adjusting her shirt. It was her first Wicked Grace game since the wedding and she would have been lying if she said she wasn’t hoping to inspire something like the feelings from that night in Fenris. The shirt was the crimson of the dress she had worn, but she wore a black leather underbust corset that made her breasts just a little more prominent. Isabela had bought her the ensemble after Hawke and Fenris had ended their relationship, pointing out that making her tits the focus might give her a chance to go and “get over one man by getting under another.”  


But that hadn’t been what she wanted, so the top had remained in her wardrobe until tonight.   


And now, well, there was one man in particular who she was hoping would notice. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door, grinning at the chorus of voices who called her name. She made her way to her group’s usual table, and Fenris rose abruptly, gesturing at the spot next to him. His eyes were wide as he looked her up and down and Hawke flushed with pleasure as she sat down.   


“Looking good, Hawke!” Isabela said with a grin. “Which friend gave you such a tasteful gift, I wonder?”  


Hawke chuckled and accepted a mug of ale from the pirate. “A captain of impeccable style,” she said.   


“Oh, stop!” Isabela said, holding up a hand. “What do you think, Fenris?” she asked, glancing over at the elf. “Doesn’t it suit Hawke?”  


Hawke kicked at Isabela under the table, but she just laughed.  


“Hawke always looks lovely,” Fenris said, and Hawke could see that he was blushing to his ears.   


Isabela stuck out her tongue. “Spoilsport.”  


They settled into a game and Hawke almost gasped when she felt Fenris press his thigh against hers. She glanced over at him and saw his full lips curl into a shy smile. She smiled back and returned the contact, feeling her heart begin to beat a little faster. She played abysmally that night, too distracted by Fenris’ heat and proximity. He also played much worse than usual, allowing Anders to finally make back some of his money. Isabela made out like a bandit, not shockingly, but she didn’t gloat when they hugged goodnight. Instead she whispered: “He kept sneaking looks at your tits all night!”  


Hawke blushed and Isabela chuckled and kissed her cheek. After promising to play again in a week, the group began to disperse. Varric, Isabela, and Merril went up to Varric’s room to work on an idea Isabela had about something called “friend fiction”. Anders hurried off to his clinic, leaving Hawke and Fenris suddenly alone.   


“Are you-” Fenris swallowed hard. “Are you going home?” he asked.   


Hawke nodded. “Would you walk with me?” she asked, giving him her most wide-eyed, innocent expression. “The streets of Kirkwall aren’t safe for a lady at night.”  


Fenris raised an eyebrow. “For a lady, no. In your case I would be more concerned about our assailants, if the past has been any indication.” He looked at her from under his hair, smiling. “But I will gladly accompany you, nonetheless.”  


Together they left the Hanged Man and began walking and Hawke realized with a start that she’d automatically begun to walk the longer route that they had always taken before. “Sorry,” she said, blushing. “I-we can go the short way if you like.”  


Fenris gave a shrug that was entirely too casual to be anything other than feigned. “It is a pleasant enough night,” he said. “And I would not be sorry for the extra time.”  


“Me neither,” Hawke said, smiling up at him.   


They fell into a companionable silence as they walked, but inside Hawke was at war with herself. She desperately wanted to take his hand like she always used to. But would that be crossing a line? The night of the wedding had certainly made it seem as though they were moving towards resuming their relationship, but she didn’t want to make any assumptions.   


She was so busy anxiously worrying that it made her jump a little when she felt the cool brush of Fenris’ fingertips across hers. It was such a light touch she might have missed it, but for the way his eyes suddenly cut in her direction. Swallowing her nerves, Hawke returned the contact and almost gasped when Fenris lightly ran his fingertips down the inside of her wrist and palm, before interlacing his fingers with hers. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Her heart filled with joy and she knew that there was a ridiculous smile on her face that remained there until they were safely inside her estate.  


“Would you like to have a drink?” Hawke asked, her fingers still laced through his. She was reluctant to let him go.  


“Very much,” Fenris said, lightly squeezing her hand.   


Together they walked up to her office where she poured for the two of them. They sat on the couch where they used to read and Hawke saw Fenris give it a sad little smile. He turned to her. “I did not want to give Isabela the satisfaction or, Maker save me, more fuel for her ‘friend fiction’,” he said, an inscrutable look on his face. “So I hope you will forgive my...understated reaction to how you look tonight. I promise you, it was not an accurate reflection of what I was thinking.”  


Hawke caught her breath, but forced herself to take a sip of her wine. “No?” she asked mildly.   


“No,” Fenris said, setting down his wine and moving closer to her on the couch. He took the wine from her hands and placed it on the table behind her, his body suddenly hovering over her. He looked down at her and Hawke could have sworn she could feel the heat emanating off of him.   


“What would have been more accurate?” Hawke asked, aching to touch him but not wanting to break the spell of the moment.  


He smiled and leaned close to her ear. “Shall I be honest?”  


“Please,” Hawke managed to whisper.   


His voice dropped into the deep, growly register that always made the heat pool between her legs. “Of course you are lovely,” he said. “But that does not quite encompass how...desirable I find you. I kept losing money tonight because I couldn’t stop imagining touching you...tasting you.” He gave a soft little laugh that made her catch her breath. “If your goal was to drive me to distraction, woman, you succeeded.” He sat back down much closer to her this time, his expression inscrutable.   


Hawke swallowed hard but met his eyes, raising one of her eyebrows. “Good,” she whispered.   


He smiled at her but Hawke saw the flicker of something dark and dangerous in his eyes. “Good?” he echoed.  


She nodded. “I want you to think of me that way,” she admitted. “Isabela got me this shirt after...after you and I-”  


“After I hurt you,” Fenris said with some bitterness. “After I left.”   


“Yes,” Hawke said. It was true, after all. “She told me the best way to get over someone was to get under someone and gave me this.”  
Fenris’ eyes snapped up and before he could moderate his expression, Hawke could see the flash of rage and jealousy. “I see. Am I not its first victim, then?”  


Hawke recoiled like she’d been slapped and saw the consternation on Fenris’ face. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she breathed, her own temper rising. “Fenris, I could barely handle kissing Jacob and he was someone who mattered to me! Do you really think that I’d just-”  


“No,” Fenris said, reaching for her hand and shaking his head. “I do not. I’m sorry, Hawke. That was wrong of me to say. Even if you had, I have no right to say or feel anything about it. I am the one who left, as you have rightly pointed out before.”  


She took a deep breath and let it out, squeezing his hand. “Damn right,” she said. “Just don’t do it again. Leave, I mean.”  


Fenris took a deep breath, his eyes darting away from hers and Hawke inadvertently tightened her hand.   


“What is it?” she asked, feeling her heart start to beat faster. “Fenris?”  


He sighed, shaking his head. “I do not know if I should tell you,” he said softly.   


“Well you have to now,” Hawke said. “You can’t say that and then not tell me.”  


“Are you sure?” he asked. “I-I am afraid if I do, it will change things.”  


“Fenris, there’s nothing you can’t say to me,” Hawke replied, pouring as much feeling as she could into the words. Her heart was well and truly racing now. Was he going to leave her again? Was there someone else?  


“I had a dream the night of Aveline’s wedding,” Fenris began quietly. “That you and I…” he swallowed hard. “That we were wed, Hawke.”  


Caught utterly off-guard, she blushed and smiled up at him. “Oh?”  


His answering smile was a sad one. “Yes,” he said. “We had children.”  


“Maker, Fenris,” Hawke breathed. “You don’t do anything by halves, do you?”  


He closed his eyes, looking pained and Hawke flinched. Why couldn’t she ever keep quiet?  


“Our life...it was a good one,” he said. “We were very happy.” His eyes opened and met hers. “Until Danarius came for me. He bade me to kill our children, Hawke. And I did. And you, after you watched me slaughter them. Our-” his voice faltered. “Our daughter died protecting our son from me, Hawke.”   


She felt almost dizzy as she looked over at him, uncertain of what to say. It was difficult to reconcile the warmth at the thought that marrying her, having children with her, had been a good part of the dream with the horror of how it had all ended. “I’m glad you told me,” she said quietly.   


“Are you?” Fenris said bitterly.   


“Of course,” she said, reaching out to take his other hand.   


He jerked both of them away from her and rose, beginning to pace. “I should have left Kirkwall years ago,” he said. “I have so much more for Danarius to take away now. I could not bear if something happened to you because of me, Hawke!”  


She rose and went to him, placing her body in his path. “Fenris, please stop.”  


He froze, his eyes a little wild as he looked at her.   


“Fenris, I know that I could be hurt because of how important you are to me, just like my friendship with Varric could be used to hurt me, or my friendship with Aveline, or, Maker preserve me, my relationship with Carver.” She reached up and took hold of his shoulders. “I accept that risk for the people I love, everyone does when they care about people.” She narrowed her eyes. “I understand, as much as I can, anyway, why you fear Danarius the way you do,” she said. “But you can't let your fear of him drive you away from the first real home you’ve had. You have to trust that the people here who love you will fight to protect you from him, even with the risks to ourselves. You're worth it to us.” She stepped closer, sliding her arms around his neck. “And if you leave Kirkwall, so help me, I’ll follow you. Knowing me, I’ll get eaten by a giant spider along the way and then it’ll actually be your fault something happened to me.”  


The last seemed to startle a laugh out of him and he leaned his forehead down against hers. “I do not deserve such devotion from you.”  


“That’s for me to decide,” she said, taking a chance and stroking the back of his head with her fingertips. “Ok?”  


He took a shuddering breath. “I know that Danarius will come for me one day.”  


“We’ll face him together when he does,” she promised.   


Fenris kissed her then, hugging her to him tightly as his lips crushed against hers. One of his hands spanned her lower back, the other her shoulders as he parted his lips. Hawke moaned against him and eagerly met his tongue with hers, her hands winding into his hair. She was breathing hard when they separated and Fenris glanced down, then back up into her eyes with a mischievous smile.   


“You are very distracting in that shirt,” he murmured.  


Hawke chuckled, blushing. Certainly after the kiss her bosom was “heaving” as much as any of the women in Isabela’s dirty books. “Are you ok?” she asked, reaching up to caress his face.   


He nodded hesitantly. “I will not pretend that the fear is gone,” he said.  


“I don’t expect it to be,” Hawke said, nuzzling under his chin. “I just...don’t want it to cost us-”  


“More than it has already?” Fenris whispered into her ear.   


She shivered and nodded. “Yes,” she said. “And Fenris?”’  


His jade eyes were luminous as he looked down at her. “Yes?”  


She shook her head. “I know that in that situation you would do anything to protect me. To protect,” she blushed. “Our family. I know there’s no way that you would follow that order.”  


“How can you know that?” Fenris breathed, taking her face in both of his hands and looking deeply into her eyes. “How can you know that I would not betray you? I have betrayed others-”  


“You are not that man anymore,” Hawke said firmly. “I would trust you with my life, with Varric’s life, with our friends lives, with our-our children’s lives...if it came to it.”  


Fenris kissed her hard and then pulled back to look at her wonderingly. “Thank you, Hawke,” he said. “For your trust. For your patience. I do not feel I deserve it, but I am grateful all the same.”  


“You’re worth it,” Hawke said, smiling up at him. “You put up with my jokes, so, you know, I think we can call it even.”  


Fenris laughed and took her in his arms again, kissing her more gently this time. “May I ask you something, Hawke?” he asked after a few minutes of unhurried kissing.  


“Mmmm?”  


He pulled back just slightly. “Are those things you want?”  


“Marriage and children?” Hawke asked, stroking the nape of his neck with her fingertips.   


He nodded, his ears turning red.   


She hesitated, suddenly nervous again. _Maker, are we really going to do this tonight?_ What if she offended him? “I-I have no issue with marriage,” she said. “Not now, anyway. If you’d asked me the same question before the Blight, I probably would have said no way. But going through that...I don’t know. I see those kind of bonds as more important now, I guess?”  


“Take the happiness where you can?” Fenris said.   


She nodded. “And having a man tell me he wanted to marry me forced me to think about it as well, I can’t pretend it didn’t.”  


Fenris flinched just slightly, but nodded. “That makes sense.”  


“I didn’t hate the idea of getting married,” she said with a sad shrug. “I just knew I couldn’t marry Jacob. As to children…” she took a deep breath. “I don’t have any desire to be pregnant, I know that much. I don’t feel the need to ‘continue my line’ or anything like that.” She snuck a glance at him, looking for disappointment on his face. But he was nodding as though he understood. “And there’s the fact that mages and templars are getting closer to war every day, and the fact that it’s almost guaranteed that at least one of my children would be a mage...I couldn’t send my child to the Circle, not when there are templars like Alrik in the world. And I would be a shit teacher. I couldn’t even keep my family safe...how could I take the responsibility of raising a child?” A couple of tears escaped and slid down her face and Fenris wiped them away gently.   


“I think you would be better at being a mother than you think,” Fenris said. “But that is not relevant if it is not what you want. I have always felt that if I were to have children, I would adopt one. There are so many children that need...someone to protect them.” He gave a little shrug. “But I too have no specific desire for fatherhood. Perhaps because I do not remember my own father...perhaps because I fear I do not have the patience...I am not sure.” He glanced at her from under his hair, his lips curling into a sweet smile. “I am glad that you asked me to share,” he said, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers. “Though I will admit to being worried doing so.”  


“Why?” she asked.  


“Because of all I put you through,” he said. “It seemed...presumptuous? Especially as slowly as we are taking things now.”  


“Is that what we’re doing?” she teased, feeling her heart leap to her throat hopefully.   


He chuckled and kissed her gently, nodding. “I believe so.” He looked down at her, his brow suddenly furrowing. “Unless that is not what you want,” he said. “I would understand. I understand if you cannot trust me not to hurt you again.”  


She tilted her face up. “It _is_ what I want, Fenris _You have no idea how much._ And I _do_ trust you,” she said. “But please don’t put me through that again. I would rather wait than-than…” her throat closed as she remembered watching him walk out of her door.   


“As would I,” Fenris said, tightening his arms around her.   


She gave him a stern look. “We _are_ going to have to talk about that night at some point,” she said. “Before we...you know.”  


“I know,” he said. “And we shall, I promise. For now, please just know that I am sorry for how I hurt you. It was never my intention.”  


She nodded and kissed him, rising up on her tiptoes and pressing the full length of her body against him. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but she was content to let it rest for now. It would appear that they had time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, thank you for sticking with me so far! The motivation behind this chapter was my belief that Saoirse and Fenris would have had a couple of relationship talks in that three year gap as they tried to navigate getting back together. I know she wouldn't be able to just silently let things go for 3 years. I hope that it felt organic and that you enjoyed it.
> 
> Moving forward, I have to warn you, things are going to get **dark** for awhile. The next couple chapters are actually the first scenes I ever got in my head about this fic. I'll get into more detail as the chapters unfold. That said, I understand if anyone needs to stop reading at this point. Things will lighten up a few chapters down the road, but it is going to be heavy for awhile. I'll make sure to include trigger warnings at the beginning of each of the next chapters so that you can decide if you want to read them. 
> 
> As always, thank you for your patience and I hope you are enjoying it so far!


	19. All Good Things Must Come to an End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danarius returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL ASSAULT, TORTURE, DEATH**
> 
> All right, Fam, here it is. This is the chapter that was the inspiration for the fic. It is dark as hell. It was really hard to write. I read it to my husband and he hated it because, his words: "Danarius is terrible, fuck that guy". 
> 
>   
> I wrote this chapter because, if the fact that it seems like this topic pops up on reddit every few months is any indication, I am not alone in thinking that everything with Danarius went way too easily. If we accept Varric as an unreliable narrator, I think that we can accept that there's a good chance that the version of Danarius' return for Fenris that we got is a heavily sanitized one. This is my version.

_Hawke, meet me at Fenris’ mansion. He’s going to need you. -A_

Hawke stared down at Aveline’s note, her stomach twisting into knots. She could only imagine what was going on. Things between her and Fenris had been...better in the few months since the wedding and their conversation about his dream. Fenris smiled a lot more now and they had continued to slowly explore intimacy with one another. They hadn’t done more than cuddle and kiss, but after so long without him it felt wonderful to be in his arms again.  


That made it doubly strange that Aveline was reaching out rather than Fenris himself, but she knew that Aveline wouldn’t have if it wasn’t important, so she strapped her staff to her back and hurried over. As she let herself in she heard raised voices and when she followed them up to Fenris’ room she saw him pacing as Aveline watched from one of the chairs at the table. The guard captain looked frustrated and Hawke guessed that they had been at it for awhile.   


“Are you certain it’s her?” Fenris asked, not stopping his pacing.  


Aveline sighed. “An elf matching your description, on the ship you named, alone as far as I could tell.” It sounded from her tone as though this wasn’t the first time she was repeating that statement.   


Fenris whirled around and slammed his hands down on the table. “I need to know if it’s a trap!”  


Aveline rose, her strong jaw set. “I did as you asked, Fenris. Now it’s up to you.” She rolled her eyes as she walked past Hawke. “You talk to him Hawke, I’ve had my fill.”  


“Venhedis. Fasta Vass!” Fenris snarled, beginning to pace again.   


“Maybe I can help, Fenris,” Hawke said gently. She hated to see him so tense.   


“It’s my sister. I didn’t tell you, but I followed up on Hadriana’s information. Everything she said was true. I kept it quiet, but eventually I contacted Varania and sent her coin enough to come and meet me. And now she’s here.” He said it all in a rush, scarcely stopping for breath and she realized that he was nervous in part because he’d kept the search from her. Though she was a little hurt, she didn’t want to make it about her. Instead she asked if his sister had actually been in Qarinus.  


He gave a little shake of his head. “My sister left Master Ahriman’s service, I found her in Minrathous. That made things more difficult. But according to the men I paid, it’s just as Hadriana said. She’s not a slave. She’s a tailor, in fact. Getting a letter to her was difficult, and she didn’t believe me at first. But she’s finally come.” He looked so hopeful, but there was distinct fear written across his face for her to see. She knew what the source was.  


“You’re worried Danarius knows?” she asked, though it isn’t really a question. She didn’t have his history and she was worried that Danarius knew.  


“The more it seems he doesn’t know, the more certain I become he does!” She ached to go and take his hands, anything to help calm him down, but she recognized his nervous energy and knew it wouldn’t help. His green eyes found hers and the intensity in them almost took her breath away. “Come with me Hawke. I need you there when I meet her.”  


Hawke’s heart thudded in her chest. That he wanted her there touched her deeply. “I thought you said there was no point in meeting her,” she said.  


He shook his head, his white hair falling across his forehead. “I can’t simply leave it like this. I have to know. If we go to the Hanged Man during the day, she’ll be there. For the next week at least. It would mean a lot to me. That’s all I ask.”  


“Of course I’ll go with you, Fenris,” she said, stepping towards him. “I wouldn’t ask you to go alone.” She saw his shoulders relax a little. “Who else do you want to bring?” she asked.  


He looked towards her, panic written all over his face. “I...don’t want to bring anyone else,” he said.  


She raised an eyebrow. “No one? Fenris, if it’s a trap-”  


“Varric then!” he snapped. “But I can’t-” he took a deep breath. “I am not comfortable with anyone else being there when I meet her.”  


She held up her hands, knowing that this was as far as she could push him. “I’m just trying to protect you,” she said softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder.   


His eyes had been a little wild, but she could feel him calm down a little bit as she touched him. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. I’m just…” he shook his head helplessly. “I don’t even know how to describe it.”  


“I can’t even imagine,” Hawke said. “But you won’t face it alone. I’ll send a letter to Varric asking him to meet us here first thing tomorrow.” She gave him a look. “I’m going to tell Aveline what we’re doing.” She held up her hand when he began to object. “I’m just going to send her a letter when we leave, and tell her if she doesn’t hear from me within an hour, to send backup. Does that seem fair?”  


Fenris nodded. “That...is a good compromise, Hawke.” He smiled at her, though there was tension in the corners of his eyes still. “Thank you.”   


“Do you need company tonight?” she asked, concerned.   


He shook his head. “I think that I would like to be alone for awhile to try and...collect myself. I do not imagine I will sleep much, however, so I will probably impose on you first thing in the morning.”  


“Varric is going to hate it,” she teased. “I’ll be ready when you arrive. I’ll have Mrs. March make us something to eat. Try and get some rest, ok?”  


He nodded and caught her hand as she turned to leave. “Thank you for coming with me,” he said.   


Hawke squeezed his hand. “Of course.”  


****  
_Varric,  
_

_Fenris has found his sister and we are meeting her at the Hanged Man first thing in the morning. He has said that he would be comfortable with you being there. Please join us at my place for breakfast so we can both walk down with him. He’s...pretty on edge. I’m going to reach out to Aveline in case it’s a trap, but please don’t tell anyone else.  
_

_X,  
_

_Hawke_

_Aveline,  
_

_Thank you for what you have done for Fenris. I know he hasn’t said it quite like he should. We are going to go to the Hanged Man first thing tomorrow to meet her, but Fenris is pretty insistent on it being only me and Varric who accompany him. I’m going to have Bodahn bring this letter to you when we leave. If you don’t hear from us within an hour of that letter, it was a trap and we need backup.  
_

_Thank you for everything.  
_

_Love to Donnic.  
_

_Hawke_  


__

****  


__

Fenris resisted the urge to reach out and take Hawke’s hand as the three of them made their way from Hightown down to the Hanged Man. He’d scarcely touched Mrs. March’s delicious offering and Hawke had taken pity on him after making sure he’d eaten at least a roll. He felt so anxious, so uncertain about what he was walking into. Varania’s letters had been so warm towards the end, he wanted to believe that perhaps he could have a relationship with her and regain some of what had been taken from him. He knew there was a risk and appreciated the steps that Hawke had taken to mitigate it, but he was feeling a manic sort of optimism generously laced with fear.  


As the familiar edifice of the Hanged Man came into view he felt his heart begin to pound so hard that he was certain that Hawke and Varric could hear it.   


“Are you sure about this?” Hawke asked gently.   


His throat felt as dry as the pages of Shartan. “Yes,” he managed to say somehow.   


Hawke looked like she wanted to say something, but instead she gave him a worried little smile and followed him inside.   


The Hanged Man was quieter than usual, so it was easy for Fenris to spot the lone elf sitting at a table. He found himself drawn towards her as if by magic, ignoring Hawke’s quiet comment to Varric: “Where the hell is everyone?”  


“It really _is_ you,” the woman said, glancing in his direction.   


Fenris was brought up short. He knew her. “Varania?” he said, his pulse pounding in his ears. “I...remember you.We played in our master’s courtyard while mother worked. You called me-”  


“Leto,” she said. “That is your name.” She rose and Fenris could see that her expression was not the warm one he was hoping for. She looked...frightened.   


“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking a step towards her. “Why are you so-”  


And then Hawke touched his arm, her voice tight with worry. “Fenris, we have to get out of here!”  


Then, Fenris heard _his_ voice. The voice from his nightmares. “Ah, my little Fenris. Predictable as always.” And then there Danarius was, making his way down the stairs flanked by House Danarius guards as more mercenaries poured from the upstairs and it was as though all of the air was sucked out of the room. He heard a strange ringing in his ears as it felt as though his heart was being slowly constricted in his chest.   


“I’m sorry it came to this, Leto,” Varania said.  


He gritted his teeth and grasped wildly at the emotion that had always sustained him when all else failed: rage. He rounded on Varania. “You led him here!” he snarled at her.  


Danarius’ voice was as smug as he remembered. “Now, Fenris. Don’t blame your sister. She did what any good imperial citizen should.”  


“I never wanted these filthy markings, Danarius, but I won’t let you kill me to get them!” He hated the desperation that he heard in his own voice and what was worse was that he knew that Danarius heard it too. His former master merely smiled at him and turned to Hawke and every fiber of Fenris’ being recoiled at the way he looked at her.  


“How little you know, my pet. And this is your new Mistress? Champion of Kirkwall. Quite lovely.” His expression was an appraising one as he looked her up and down, but Fenris knew Danarius well enough to see the anger that was concealed behind the carefully cultivated civility.   


“Fenris doesn’t belong to anyone!” Hawke growled, her staff out and whirling dangerously in her hand as she interposed her body between Danarius and Fenris. Her spine was rigid and Fenris could almost hear the thrum of her magic as she prepared to defend him. His heart could have burst with his love for her, but he wanted to scream at Varric to get her out of the Hanged Man and away from danger. But the dwarf had moved to stand next to her, Bianca at the ready.  


Danarius’ lip curled. “Is that a note of jealousy I detect? It’s not surprising. The lad is rather skilled, isn’t he?”   


Fenris saw how Varric went suddenly still at Darnius’ words and felt like he might vomit. Hawke was the only person he had specifically talked about his time with Danarius with and while he knew that the clever dwarf suspected, he’d never asked. And though he had talked with Hawke about it, to have Danarius throw it in her face was utterly humiliating. “Shut your mouth, Danarius!” he spat at the magister.  


Danarius sighed. “The word is _Master_ ,” he said with the exasperation of a tutor speaking to a particularly dense child. He gestured to the guards and then, the fight was on.  


Fenris realized horribly quickly that he should have listened to Hawke and brought more of their companions. They were massively outnumbered by House Danarius guards, extra mercenaries, and shades that had been summoned by Danarius. The three of them fought furiously, but for every man or shade they cut down, two more seemed to spring up in their place. Fenris heard a grunt of pain and saw that one of the big mercenaries had slashed Varric across the thigh. Hawke was there in an instant, interposing her body between the mercenary and the dwarf. Though she fought valiantly, the mercenary batted her staff aside with his shield in a blow so hard that she dropped her staff. She clutched her arm to her chest, but held her ground in front of Varric and was knocked down alongside him. Fenris battled to get to them, but there were just too many enemies. He was overwhelmed and found himself forced to his knees next to them. Their arms were bound behind their backs none too gently and he heard Hawke whimper at the rough handling of her wounded arm. Then he heard Danarius’ voice again.  


“Now, my dear Champion, I do hope that we can avoid any further bloodshed.”  


“I’m sure,” Hawke growled, panting.  


The magister slid through the mercenaries and came to stand where they could see him, his lips curled into an unpleasant smile. Next to him was a broad shouldered man with a bald head and muscles like a blacksmith. Fenris felt his eyes widen.  


“I see you remember Overseer Livius, my pet,” Danarius said softly. “He certainly remembers you. He specifically asked to come along to retrieve you.”   


Fenris felt a shudder go through him. Breaker had always resented his place as Danarius’ “favorite”.  


“I have an offer for you, Champion,” Danarius said, once more turning back to Hawke. “The hour grows late, and soon my ship to Minrathos will sail. I am offering you a chance to walk away. Leave now, let me take the boy, and you and your friend will be spared.”  


“No!” Hawke spat, struggling against her bonds. “I won’t let you take him!”  


“My dear, think carefully,” Danarius said, curling his lip. He gestured to the mercenaries that surrounded them. “You have no way to _stop_ me from taking him. Why not settle things amicably? It is a generous offer, considering that you _stole_ my property.”   


“He’s a _person_ , not property you smug son-of-a-bitch!” Hawke retorted. “Let him go! Or I swear-”  


“Livius, please make the Champion understand what her continued defiance will cost her.”  


Breaker and the mercenaries moved towards Hawke and though she raised her chin to face them, Fenris could see the fear in her eyes.  


“WAIT!” Fenris gasped, trying to get to his feet. A cold weight had settled in his belly “Please! I beg you!” He couldn’t let them hurt her, hurt either of them.  


Danarius held up a hand heavy with rings and nodded for the mercenaries to allow Fenris to rise. “Yes, pet?”  


“I will go,” Fenris breathed, feeling the words turn to ash in his mouth. “If you do not harm them, I will return to Minrathous with you. I will return to your service and never again attempt to escape. I swear it!”  


“Is that so?” Danarius murmured, raising a thick eyebrow. He closed the distance between them and took Fenris’ chin in his overly warm, damp fingers. Fenris tried to suppress the shudder that he felt crawl up his spine. He remembered his master's hands all too well.  


“NO, FENRIS,” Hawke screamed, struggling against the large mercenaries that held her. Breaker struck her on the side with the Blackstick, the ebony truncheon that all the slaves feared and she gave a strangled cry as least one of her ribs cracked. She visibly struggled to get air in as she shook her head at Fenris mouthing the word “NO”.  


“FENRIS!” Varric yelled, struggling against their captors as he tried to get to Bianca. “You bastards can’t have him!”  


Fenris turned his head, unable to look at them as he spoke the words that he prayed would set the two of them free. “I swear it...Master.”  


Danarius slid an arm around his waist, his fingers slipping under Fenris’ shirt to touch the skin of his lower back. He knew he should have been prepared, but it was nonetheless an awful shock when Danarius kissed him. The sensation was familiar in all the worst ways, but Fenris didn’t protest. He was carefully pliant, allowing Danarius to caress his back and press his lips open with his tongue. The old man’s eyes were almost completely black with lust when he pulled back and caressed Fenris’ cheek. Fenris forced himself to lean into it, like a dog.   


“Such a good boy,” Danarius said in a tone that made Fenris’ skin crawl. “I have just the thing for such a good pet,” he said, reaching into the pouch at his belt. He pulled out a black leather collar with a large moonstone and intricate silver scrollwork that mirrored Fenris’ tattoos. Fenris knew that this was a final blow to humiliate him, to break his spirit, to remind him that he was nothing more than property. Danarius had loved to see him collared in his last life.   


“Isn’t it lovely?” Danarius said. “I had a new one made after the last one was so callously destroyed.” He held it out. “Put it on.”  


“Don’t, Fenris!” Hawke begged, wheezing. “You aren’t a slave, you aren’t-”  


“And you will not harm them, Master?” Fenris interrupted desperately, trying not to look at her.   


“No,” Danarius said. “I will not.”   


Hands shaking, Fenris unbuckled the collar and brought it to his neck.   


“No, Fenris!” Hawke sobbed.   


Unable to look at her, Fenris wrapped the collar around his throat and fastened it, then let his hands fall to his sides. Danarius clipped a leash to the front of the collar and gave an experimental tug, tightening it around Fenris’ throat. His gorge rose as he felt Hawke and Varric’s eyes on him, but he didn’t struggle.  


“That’s a good pet,” Danarius said fondly, stroking his cheek. Then, viper quick, he struck Fenris hard across the face with the end of the leash. The blow caught him off-guard and Fenris felt a sudden intense rush of terror. Danarius _never_ struck him on the face. If he was furious enough to do so and risk damaging his property, Maker only knew what else he would do.  


“You son of a bitch!” Hawke snarled, thrashing against the men who held her despite her injuries.   


“Shut her up,” Danarius ordered Breaker, his eyes not leaving Fenris’.   


Breaker smiled his cruel smile and grabbed Hawke by the throat, dragging her over to one of the trestle tables and slamming her down on her back. Two of the burly mercenaries grabbed Hawke’s arms and pinned her down as the Overseer brought the Blackstick down on her side. She let out a horrible strangled cry and Danarius grabbed his chin and forced Fenris to look away from her. “You think to _barter_ with me, boy, like we are _equals_!” He punctuated every other word with a blow with the leash, but Fenris forced himself to remain still. “You run halfway across Thedas, you allow this... _whore_ to avail herself of _my_ property and then you have the _audacity_ to try and _bargain_!” Danarius stopped striking him for a moment and took a deep, steadying breath. His eyes narrowed as he looked over at where Hawke still struggled against the men who held her down and terror gripped Fenris’ belly. He could handle Danarius taking him away. He couldn’t handle something happening to Hawke or Varric because of him.   


“Please Master,” Fenris heard himself begging. He knew the look in Danarius’ eyes. Awful things happened to people when he looked that way. “Please-don’t...don’t hurt them...please-”  


Danarius jerked hard on the collar, tightening it abruptly. Try as he might, Fenris couldn’t get any air in and he felt the blood pounding behind his eyes. The pressure suddenly abated and Fenris dropped to all fours, struggling to remain conscious. In the distance he heard the sound of the chantry bells. He looked up and saw Danarius looking down at him. “Time to go, Little Wolf,” Danarius said. “Get them up, Livius,” he said nodding to Hawke and Varric. “But before we go, there is something you must do, Fenris. A last chance to redeem yourself and avoid at least a portion of your punishment.” His lips curled as he motioned to two of the burlier mercenaries. They stepped forward and roughly took hold of Fenris’ arms, dragging him over to the middle of the room and jerking him to a halt in front of Hawke and Varric. The two of them had been forced to their knees side by side with their arms bound in front of them. It was an executioner’s position and Fenris struggled to break free of the men who held him as panic began to take hold of him. “Kill the dwarf,” Danarius said. “And then kill your whore.”  


“No.” Fenris said immediately, not giving a damn what it cost him. “Master please, I _beg_ you, this isn’t necessary-”  


“Do you think me a fool, Fenris?” Danarius asked, wrapping his hand around the front of Fenris’ throat as the mercenaries held him in place. “If I leave them alive, they will be on the first ship after ours. I do not care for loose ends.”  


“They won’t-”   


Had the mercenaries not been holding him up, Fenris would have collapsed as Danarius’ magic surged through him, burning away everything that wasn’t agony and terror. When it abated he was hanging limp in their arms, panting. “I gave you an order,” Danarius growled. “Do not embarrass me. Do as I say or you will spend the first week of the trip with Breaker.”  


“No,” Fenris whispered, shaking his head. It felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds. “I won’t.” With an agonizing effort he looked up at Danarius. “Please, Master...don’t-”  


“No,” Danarius said. “You made your choice. Livius? We haven’t much time.”   


“Please!” Fenris sobbed, desperately seeking the right combination of words to protect the two people he loved the most. “Master please, please, I am _begging_ , I will do _anything_ , anything I swear I-”  


He was cut off by the sound of Bianca’s action and the image of Varric’s body recoiling with the impact of the powerful bolts was one that would haunt his nightmares for as long as he lived. Varric toppled over backwards with an awful cry of agony and Hawke started to scream and thrash, trying to reach the dwarf. Breaker chuckled and tossed the dwarf’s beloved crossbow to the ground. “VARRIC!” Fenris screamed more loudly than he could ever recall screaming in his life. “VARRIC!”  


Then Breaker stepped in front of Hawke and pulled out a long, thin knife and it felt as though all of the air had been sucked out of Fenris’ lungs. His screams for Varric disappeared into choked, shocked gasps.  


“Anything you want to say to the little wolf?” Breaker asked her, gripping her chin.   


Tears streamed down her face as she went still and Fenris knew with sudden, crushing finality that he was about to lose her for good. Her eyes met his. “I love you,” she whispered. “Fenris, I-”  


Breaker slit her throat in a quick, decisive motion and Fenris was close enough to see Hawke’s eyes go wide and feel the warmth of the spray of her blood. He threw himself towards her, howling her name, but the mercenaries and the collar brought him up short. He fought on anyway, a wild hope in his heart that if he could just break free, he could save them. But he heard Danarius order his men from the Hanged Man just before the magister poured so much magic into the lyrium tattoos that the agony reached into every crevice of Fenris’ being and then mercifully, robbed him of his consciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really feel that saying my usual "I hope you enjoyed" is entirely appropriate in this case, but I hope that you didn't hate the writing, at least. 
> 
> I promise the fic continues from here! Help is on the way! Things are going to continue to be dark for a few chapters, but please stick with me!


	20. Shadows fall, and Hope Has Fled.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wracked with guilt over the deaths of Hawke and Varric, Fenris struggles to find a reason to continue his fight aboard Danarius' ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE & TORTURE, IMPLIED SEXUAL ASSAULT/NON-CON**
> 
> "The Dawn Will Come" belongs to Bioware

As soon as they had been taken prisoner, Hawke had known that no matter what Danarius said, he was going to kill them. There was no way that he would leave loose ends who might attempt a rescue behind. To that end, she had done what she could to prepare her healing magic for when the blow came. It was a long shot, and it was nearly impossible to concentrate as the mercenaries threatened her and Varric, but she knew it was their only chance. She’d cast Healing Aura on herself as soon as she had been forced to her knees, knowing that Varric was close enough that he would be within the range of the subtle spell. She hoped that it was subtle _enough_ that the magister wouldn’t notice, but he was so intent on punishing Fenris that it didn’t appear he had.   


Still, the sound of Bianca’s action had almost broken her resolve, and the sight of her beloved friend crumpling to the ground would be burned into her memory forever if she were able to survive. She was screaming his name before she even knew what she was doing and she could feel the tears pouring down her face. _Maker please...please give me the strength to save him_. She willed her magic to keep him alive even as the man called Breaker approached her with the ugly looking knife.   


“Anything you want to say to the wolf?” he asked her cruelly.   


“I love you,” she managed to whisper, meeting Fenris’ terrified eyes. If this was it, if she failed, she needed him to know. “Fenris, I-”  


Horrible ripping pain and then warmth so much warmth oh Maker I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t breathe. Collapsing to the ground sharp cracking pain as her ribs broken rough jagged scraped together, robbing her of what little breath she had  


She reached up, twisting her hands against her restraints and though it hurt her wrist her throat her ribs it all hurt so badly. She was going to die. Choke on her own blood. Champion of Failure.   


He was gone  


Varric dead  


Her….soon to be dead unless she could just….FOCUS.  


She forced her palm against the hideous opening in her throat, struggling as the world grew colder and darker to will her magic in. She was cold so cold but so horribly _warm_ against her hands. She coughed and tasted blood, felt it filling her mouth. Drowning her. Pulling her down into the deep darkness.  


“Hawke-” Varric rasped somewhere a thousand miles away.  


Varric....she had to save Varric.   


She fought against the encroaching darkness, struggling to push it back with her own light. Struggling to give her spells time to work. Healing magic healing without hands healing without staff healing like she had practiced like _they_ had practiced healing so she could save Varric save Fenris   


not die.   


She was tired so tired but the warmth was abating, slowing, a broken dam down to a trickle and it was _enough_.   


She rolled to her side, retching and reaching reaching for Varric. His skin going gray and sweaty.  


No, Maker no no no.  


poison.   


The bolts were always poisoned.   


With a sob she collapsed on top of him with one of her hands wrapped around her wound and the other awkwardly pressed against his chest. His eyes were wide and frightened as he met hers but she saw him shake his head.  


_Save yourself_ , his dying eyes said.  


_You can’t go_ , she thought, struggling to convince her magic that he needed it too. It was hard, so hard, like trying to fill a bucket with hundreds of holes, but it didn’t matter. She would pour magic into them until she ran out. She would keep them alive as long as she could.   


Varric began to spasm beneath her froth pink with blood pouring from his lips and Hawke held onto him as panic filled her eating away at her hope.   


_Help us please help us please_   


_Varric you can’t go you can’t you can’t don’t leave me_

A sudden bang a million miles away and then voices so many voices Aveline it was Aveline’s strong hands pulling Hawke off of Varric’s body  


NO not his body NOT his body he couldn’t be dead he needed her magic he needed her magic why didn’t they understand?  


Strong hands lying her on the floor, ignoring her begging, ignoring her struggle  


and then and then the coolness of a potion bottle at her lips.   


Shaking her head, so weak so tired, unable to say his name.  


_Give the potion to Varric give it to Varric give it to him the poison will kill him if you don’t please Aveline not me, Varric-_

“Hawke, listen to me, Donnic is taking care of Varric,” Aveline’s voice was firm so firm so like her. Guard Captain in charge.   


She tried to open her eyes. Aveline couldn’t lie. Had to see had to know it was the truth. One eye open blinding light but then  


red hair green eyes.  


Truth. Honesty.  


Fear.   


Cold bottle again. This time she doesn’t refuse.   


The cinnamon taste of the potion burning her tongue her mouth her throat Maker it hurt. Screaming by accident, almost screaming, something like a scream. A gurgle. Copper again.   


“Hawke, Hawke you have to relax,” Aveline was saying and then warm hands, warm hands on her throat.  


“Hawke, I’m here,” Anders talking the familiar warmth of magic familiar magic healing magic and suddenly suddenly the weight is gone and air is cold and sweet and good and _hurts_ , but it doesn’t matter.  


“Varric,” she rasped and then almost fell into darkness again as the pain tore at her.  


“Don’t talk,” Anders instructed. “He’s going to be all right, Hawke. I’ll tend to him now.”  


_I have to see I have to see Varric,_ struggling to turn on her side, fighting Aveline’s strong, stubborn hands.   


“Hawke! You aren’t going to do him any good by hurting yourself,” Aveline said. Firm. so firm. Yes, Guard Captain.   


Cold bottle. Cinnamon.   


Tightness easing, little by little.  


“Makers great pendulous balls!” the voice, the beloved voice rough with pain but undeniably him.  


“Varric!”  


“Hawke!”  


His hand, colder than usual, clammy, but his reaching out and grasping hers. Safe, they are safe. Safe to let the darkness and warmth pull her down.   


_I’m coming, Fenris._

****

Fenris was dragged out of the darkness, bit by agonizing bit, by the smell of salt and the creaking of wood. He knew where he was. He would know the sounds, the smells, anywhere. He was aboard the “Victoria Dracona”. The Victory of Dragons. Danarius’ great ship that was his other pride and joy. His arms were bound tightly behind his back and his ankles were shackled together because he was being taken back to Tevinter to resume a life of slavery. But he didn’t care. None of that mattered. What mattered was the dried blood on his face and the awful weight in his heart.  


Hawke.  


Varric.  


Fenris clenched his eyes tightly shut and gritted his teeth so hard it felt like they might break in order to keep from sobbing. His body shook with the effort as tears streamed down his cheeks.   


_I love you, Fenris._  


He hadn’t told her he loved her too. He’d never gotten to tell her. And now...now he never would because she had died. Varric had died, all because they had been his friends.  


_It’s all my fault._

_I’m so sorry, Hawke,_ he thought. _I’m so sorry, Varric. I beg you, wherever you are, to forgive me. I swear I will avenge you._   


But the thought was a hollow one.   


How was he going to live without them? How could he live with himself at all knowing he was the reason that they were gone?  


He was so deeply cocooned in his sorrow that he didn’t register that he wasn’t alone until he felt a none-too-gentle jerk on the chain that had been affixed to his collar. He didn’t have the energy to respond or even open his eyes. He knew, from the footsteps, that it was Breaker. That was right, he was to spend the first week of the three week journey with Breaker as punishment for defying the order to murder his friends. In another life that would have frightened him. He knew what the man was capable of. But as it was, it didn’t matter. At least he hadn’t been the one to kill them. He could have laughed. What a horrible, cold comfort that was.  


_You were right, Varric,_ he thought as the tears continued to slide down his face. _I could never hurt either of you. Much good that did._  


“Ah, still mooning over your whore,” Breaker said conversationally. “It’s a shame we didn’t have more time. Master says if we had, he’d have let me show her what a real man was like.”  


Fenris clenched his eyes shut. “She is dead,” he spat at the overseer. “Your words are meaningless, Livius.” Nevermind how his stomach crawled at the thought of Breaker’s hands on his beloved. He would not allow him the satisfaction. Hawke was beyond pain now. Beyond vile, meaningless threats.  


Breaker gave the chain a hard tug and Fenris found himself hauled to his feet by his throat until he was eye to eye with the overseer and only touching the ground with his tiptoes.  


“Aren’t we bold all of a sudden,” Breaker said. He didn’t sound angry, he rarely got angry. If anything, he sounded amused. “I hope you enjoyed your rest. It’ll be the last time you sleep for awhile.” Breaker said, knotting the chain around a cleat on the wall.   


Fenris remained silent.  


“Nothing to say?” Breaker said conversationally. “After all the trouble you gave our Master. Not even an apology.” His pale eyes narrowed. “You _are_ an ungrateful beast.” He shook his head and pulled a knife from his belt. “Well, we had best get you ready. I’ve only got a week before you need to be ready for the master’s pleasure.” He began to cut Fenris’ clothes away, starting with his black shirt. Fenris could smell the blood on it. Hawke’s blood.   


“What’s this?” Breaker asked and Fenris felt his stomach sink. Hawke’s scarf was still tied around his wrist and her coat of arms was at his waist. Breaker cut the scarf first and brought it to his nose. 

“Belonged to your whore, I take it?” he asked.   


Fenris remained silent.   


Breaker reached to Fenris’ waist and pulled off the coat of arms. “Oh dear,” he murmured. “This isn’t the crest of House Danarius. I’d be tempted to burn it, but I’m sure the Master will want to see it.” He tossed the two most precious things Fenris owned to the floor and continued to strip Fenris, not pausing his work until Fenris hung naked from his chains.   


Breaker stepped back, looking at him. “You’ve gotten fat,” he said. “Master won’t like that. Keep you on minimal rations for the voyage, I think.” He stepped close and delivered a sudden, punishing blow to Fenris’ belly. Strung up as he was, Fenris couldn’t double over, but he twisted in his bindings, wheezing. “Master is only giving me one healing potion a day,” Breaker explained as he delivered another blow. “And he doesn’t want me to do anything to damage your tattoos. They were expensive, you know. So we’re going to have to get creative.” He shrugged his powerful shoulders. “But that’s a burden I’m willing to bear. So where should we start?”  


When Fenris didn’t respond, Breaker took the pommel of the knife he’d used to cut away Fenris’ clothes and brought it down hard on his collarbone. Fenris heard it snap just before the awful pain flooded through him. He spasmed in the chains that held him, gasping for air.   


“This will go much smoother if you answer me when I speak to you,” Breaker said.   


Fenris forced himself to look up and meet the other man’s eyes. In another life, when he feared the Overseer, that would have been the last thing he would have done. But he was too empty to be afraid.  


Breaker chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah,” he said, bringing the pommel of the blade down on Fenris’ side, directly into one of his ribs. “I think I understand,” he said over Fenris’ wheezing. “You think that because I killed your friends, you have nothing to live for. You’re a man who has lost everything and that makes you brave.” He caught Fenris’ chin in his thick fingers and glared into his eyes. “But you’re wrong, little wolf,” Breaker said, his pale eyes searching his. “Because you see, when we get back to Minrathos and he has all his tools, Master is going to take away every last memory you have of your time away from us. He’s going to burn all of it from your mind so that it is as though the dwarf and your whore never existed.” He gave a derisive snort. “So believe me when I tell you that there’s still plenty for you to lose.”  


His words robbed Fenris of his breath as much as any of the blows and he felt the bile rising in his throat as he realized that in a matter of weeks Hawke and Varric would be completely gone. The pained moan escaped his lips before he could stop it and Breaker gave a satisfied nod.   


“Now that we understand each other a little better, I think the real work can begin,” the man said. He picked up the Blackstick and suddenly Fenris was back in the Hanged Man hearing Hawke scream as the heavy weapon struck her.  


“Count them,” Breaker ordered. “If you miss one, I’ll start again.” Then, he brought it down on Fenris’ thigh.   


Fenris screamed as the muscle spasmed and the bone cracked, trying to force his brain and lips to form words. “One!” he managed to grit out just before the next blow fell.  


“Good,” Breaker said. “Nineteen to go.”

****

“Varric?” An unfamiliar voice was calling his name.  


Varric groaned and brought one hand up to scrub at his eyes. The motion tugged at bandages wrapped tightly around his chest and suddenly he was wide awake. Hawke, Fenris, Danarius, the whole terrible mess came rushing back with awful clarity.   


“Hawke!” he blinked past the sleep in his eyes. He had an awful mental image of her collapsing on top of him, blood gushing from her neck. Maker, had she been taken from him again?  


He felt a warm washcloth on his eyes and when he opened them again, everything came into focus. He was in Hawke’s guest room and she was leaning over him, a worried expression on her face.   


“Varric?” she said and her voice sounded strange and raspy. There was a bandage around her throat and he reached up to touch it with a hand that shook.   


“Sweet Maker,” Varric whispered. “Hawke-”  


She gave the ghost of a smile. “I’m ok,” she said. “How are you feeling?”  


He grunted, trying to prop himself up on his elbows. “I’ll live,” he said. He was mostly sure that that was true. “I suppose it’s good to know how effective my poisons are.” He swallowed hard, trying to shove down the feeling of his veins burning and his airways closing shut. “How the hell are we alive, Hawke?”  


She explained what she had done with her healing magic, how she had fought to keep them both alive, and Varric found himself staring at her. He didn’t know a ton about magic, but he knew enough to know that what she had done had been a nearly impossible feat.   


“Another thing I can’t put in one of my books because no one would ever believe it,” he joked weakly. His cheeks were wet with tears as he looked up at her, his dearest friend, the woman who had saved his life almost at the cost of her own. “Thank you, Hawke.” He gave a little chuckle. “Fuck, but that feels inadequate.”  


She shrugged a shoulder and though Varric could see the awful pain in her eyes, she still reached down and brushed his tears away with her sleeve. He caught her in an embrace, trying to remind himself to be gentle as he clutched her to him. The wounds on his chest protested, but he didn’t care. He needed to feel her against himself. He needed the reassurance that they were both alive. He felt her give a little sob and he hugged her tightly, murmuring quiet words of comfort.   


“I thought I lost you,” she sobbed, burrowing her face into his neck. “Fuck, Varric I-I thought that I wasn’t fast enough. That I wasn’t strong enough. I-”  


“I know,” he whispered raggedly. “Fuck, Hawke, I saw the wound you had. I felt you pouring your magic into me and all I could think was that it was too much, that it would kill you trying to save me.” He caressed her cheek. “Not that I’m not grateful, but you should have let me go. That was too risky.”  


One of her hands went into his hair, pulling his head against hers. “No!” she said, shaking her head. “Either we were both going to live, or we were going to go together, Varric Tethras.”  


He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Oh sweetheart,” he murmured, his heart clenching at her words.   


“I love you,” she whispered.   


“I love you, too,” he replied.   


She sat up, sniffling, and his heart could have broken at the pain writ large across her face.  


“I failed him, Varric,” she said, sounding utterly lost. “I always promised that I wouldn’t let them take him and I-”  


“You didn’t fail anyone,” Varric said firmly. “We are going to get him back. When do we leave?”  


“Hopefully as soon as Sebastian gets back,” she said. He saw with relief that some of the pain on her face was replaced with determination.   


“Sebastian?”  


“He’s the fastest rider,” Hawke said. “I sent him to Jacob. I asked to borrow the Arrow.”  


Moira’s Arrow. The ship Jacob claimed to be the fastest in the Free Marches. If she was in port, if Jacob consented, perhaps they had a chance.  


With Hawke’s help, Varric got out of bed and dressed. His chest hurt something awful, but he wanted to be ready to go. Anders gave him a disapproving look when he and Hawke came down the stairs and immediately hurried over and made him sit down. The healer examined him, and Varric could feel the warm touch of healing magic going to work on his wounds.   


“This would be easier if you were still in bed,” Anders chastised him.  


“Nothing worthwhile is easy,” Varric grunted. He glanced down and saw the three puckered scars where the bolts had hit him. The black lines of the poison were gone, but unfortunately, so was some of his chest hair.   


“You’re lucky to be alive, Varric,” Anders said softly. “If Hawke hadn’t done what she did, there’s no way I would have been in time to save you.”  


Varric shivered and swallowed hard. “I owe her drinks for life, Blondie, I hear you.”  


Anders chuckled, but it was strained. “I want you to take a potion every two hours for the rest of the day,” he said. “That should finish healing you.”  


Varric nodded, but caught Anders by the wrist when he began to walk away. “Is she going to be all right?” he asked softly.   


Anders sighed and shrugged. “I think so,” he said quietly. “She’s taking potions too. That was a pretty devastating injury, Varric. It’s honestly a miracle that she is alive.”  


“She’s stubborn,” Varric said, trying to ignore the chill that Anders words put up his spine. Maker, they had come so close.  


Anders looked like he was about to respond when the front door to the estate burst open and in walked Sebastian closely followed by Jacob.  


“Saoirse!” Jacob gasped, his eyes widening as he looked at her. He rushed forward and gently took her into his arms. “Maker’s breath, what did the beasts do to you?”  


She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glistening with tears. “They took Fenris!” she said, a note of panic creeping into her voice.  


Varric knew from how Jacob was looking at her throat that that wasn’t what he’d meant, but the other man nodded and clasped Hawke against his chest. “I have sent word to the Arrow,” he said with determination. “It will be ready to sail by the time we arrive.”  


She gasped and pulled back, looking up at him. “Thank you!” she breathed, giving him a tight hug around the waist. “Jacob, thank you so much.” Tears were openly streaking down her face and Jacob wiped them away tenderly.   


“Of course,” he said firmly. “How many days are we behind them?” he asked.   


Hawke blinked and glanced back at Anders. “I-I don’t know,” she said.  


“Three,” Anders replied. “Assuming they left immediately that night.”  


Hawke flinched but Jacob gently took hold of her chin. “The Moira’s Arrow is a fast ship,” he said reassuringly. “We will close the distance. They will not reach Tevinter.” His dark eyes flashed as he looked down at Hawke. “Gather what you need,” he said. “We will sail on the evening tide.”

****

Jacob was true to his word as ever and by the time the sun had begun to set Hawke and her companions were aboard the magnificent brigantine and they were underway. She stood in the bow looking out across the waves as they were illuminated in shades of purple by the last rays of the setting sun.   


“Saoirse?”  


She turned and met Jacob’s eyes. “Jacob I-” she swallowed hard, flinching as she did. “I don’t think I can ever repay you for this,” she said softly. “I feel like I crossed a line asking this of you, of all people.”  


He stepped closer and took her hands. “Saoirse, if I had turned you down because it was Fenris who was taken, then I never truly loved you at all.”  


“I don’t deserve-”  


“Stop,” he said firmly, but gently. “We aren’t going to do that. When you had the power to help one of my people, you did without second thought or reservation. Consider this recompense, if that makes it easier.” He led her over to some crates near the railing and sat down. “Will you tell me how this happened?” he asked. “And how you…” he visibly swallowed hard. “How you were wounded?”  


Hawke nodded and launched into the whole awful story, staring straight ahead at the dark, rolling waves. When she told him how Danarius had threatened her she felt the tension in his hands as he squeezed hers.   


“Fenris begged to trade himself for our lives,” she said quietly. “But Danarius was always going to kill us. He just dragged it out to hurt Fenris. The things he did to him…” she clenched her eyes shut. “The things he’s probably doing…”  


“We’ll get him back,” Jacob said, giving her hand a squeeze.   


She squeezed back as tightly as the fear was gripping her heart. “I had already started healing us when they-” she shuddered. “They shot Varric with Bianca. Maker, Jacob...I’m never going to forget how it sounded when the bolts hit him. And then…” she began to shake and felt his arm go around her shoulders. “They slit my throat,” she finished in a whisper.   


“Maker,” Jacob breathed, his arm tightening. “And you were able to keep you and Varric alive, despite that, until help came?”  


“It wasn’t very long,” she said. “I’d made a plan with Aveline.”  


“Saoirse, that is extraordinary,” Jacob said, looking down at her. “Don’t downplay what you did.”  


“I thought Varric died,” she breathed. “Maker, Jacob. That was the worst part.”  


“He’s lucky to have you,” Jacob said.   


“I always was,” Varric’s voice said from behind them. He walked up and plopped down on the other side of Hawke. “Thank you, Jacob, for helping us get our friend back.”  


“I have to admit,” Jacob said, his handsome face filled with tightly controlled rage. “Seeing what they did to the two of you...well, I haven’t anticipated taking a life so much since I journeyed into the Deep Roads.”  


“Agreed,” Hawke said, feeling the frisson of her magic through her fingertips. _I’m coming, Fenris,_ she thought, willing some of her strength to find him across the waves. _Please hold on for me._

****

“Open your eyes.”  


Fenris tried, but it felt as though they were being held down with lead weights. It had been days since he’d been allowed to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time and between that and Breaker’s endless torture, he was just so _tired_.   


Breaker had kept him strung up by his neck so that his feet barely touched the ground, forcing him to keep the awkward position on his tiptoes. If he let himself drop, he choked. His arms had been moved from behind his back and tied to opposite sides of the cabin, stretching them wide. As he was warring with himself struggling to open his eyes, he felt the ebony truncheon come down on the top of his left arm. He was hoarse from screaming already, but he screamed nonetheless as the bone snapped. His eyes flew open of their own accord and Breaker nodded to him.   


“Good morning, little wolf. The master wishes to talk to you, but first we need to do something about the smell.”   


Before Fenris could reply a bucket of freezing cold water was thrown on him, making him gasp. Breaker approached him with a bristle brush and a bar of harsh soap and got to work, scrubbing his skin roughly. It hurt, everything hurt, and he groaned with every scrape of the bristles against his poor, abused skin. He found himself fading, only to be jerked awake again by another bucket of water. A rough towel was dragged over him and Breaker stepped back with a pleased smile.   


“Doesn’t that feel better?” he asked. “Nice, clean slate for the Master.” He whistled as he mopped the excess water off the floor, then disappeared up the stairs. When he returned, Danarius was with him.  


The magister stepped close to Fenris, his pale eyes traveling up and down Fenris’ body. Fenris felt a chill he knew had nothing to do with the water. “What do you think, Livius?” Danarius asked quietly. “Has my pet repented?”   


Breaker shook his head. “He defied me only just moments ago, Master.”  


“That’s a shame,” Danarius said. He took hold of Fenris’ chin. “Look at me, boy.”  


Fenris forced his eyes open.  


Danarius gave him a cold smile. “All of this effort for people who were so quick to discard you. I will never understand it.”  


Fenris blinked, trying to shake the fog of pain and exhaustion from his brain. “What-what are you talking about?” he panted. “They didn’t-They-died trying to-”  


“Died?” Danarius said with obvious confusion. “We are talking about the Champion and her lover the dwarf, right?”  


Fenris was shaking his head. Alive, was it even possible? But he remembered. He remembered the warmth of the blood. The sound of the bolts striking home.  


“Don’t you remember, my sweet boy?” Danarius said softly.   


“-Take him!” Hawke was saying.   


“It sounded as though you made her quite angry,” Danarius said with chagrin. “She was only too happy to be rid of you. I will have to send her a thank you note when we get home.” He caressed Fenris’ cheek. “I am the only one who will ever love you, Fenris, surely you see that. You were with those people for years and they didn’t lift a finger to help you.”  


“-Take him!” her voice, wild, angry, giving him away?  


“NO.” Fenris gritted out. “NO.” He looked up at Danarius. “She always said she’d die before she’d let you take me! That’s what she said, and that’s-that’s….what...she _did_.” He trailed off as the tears came and the effort of speaking became too much.   


Danarius sighed. “It looks as though you will need those last few days, Livius,” he said. “You know what to do.” Then he turned and swept off.  


“Now you’ve done it,” Breaker said. He went to the wall and began to undo the chains that bound Fenris.   


_Break free_ , Fenris said as his good arm was allowed to drop. _Now is your chance. If you fail, what is the worst that they could do now?_ Breaker was walking by him to do the other arm. He should strike. But when he went to lift his arm, he found that it wouldn’t obey. He was so exhausted. Days and days of beating and no sleep and threats and guilt and what was the point? He screamed when his broken arm fell uselessly at his side.  


“Oh hush,” Breaker said. Finally he undid the chain that held Fenris upright and with a cruel smile, released it.   


Fenris wasn’t ready and even if he had been, his legs wouldn’t have supported him. He collapsed to the ground, landing on his broken arm and screaming as the bones grated together before one broke through his skin.   


Surely Breaker would give him a healing potion tonight. More than once he’d been left with broken bones overnight, but Danarius hadn’t wanted his precious flesh to be damaged.   


“-Take him!” Hawke’s voice was taunting in his ear. Discarding him. Sending him away.   


No. No. No. No. She never would. She _never_ would. She had died for him. Died loving him.   


His brain was so scattered with pain and anguish that it took him longer than it should have to realize that he was being bound once again, this time lying prone on the cold, rough floor. His legs had been stretched out straight and made fast to the far wall.   


“Arms behind your back,” Breaker said.  


Fenris blinked up at him. Surely he couldn’t be-  


“Arms. Behind. Your. Back.” Breaker snarled. He forced Fenris’ arms behind him and as the broken one grated and shifted Fenris lost consciousness hearing her voice.  


“-Take him!”  


He was yanked back into wakefulness by the sudden sensation that he was drowning. Icy, salty water was filling his mouth, his nose, his lungs, had they finally tired of tormenting him and thrown him into the sea? If they had, he would see her again unless, unless she was alive and had given him away, was she alive? It was almost worth the betrayal if it meant he hadn’t been responsible for their deaths.  


Fenris thrashed, trying to get to the surface as his thoughts flickered in and out of focus. The water was relentless, sometimes slowing to trickle, but then coming back in a full deluge. His world was dark, his eyes weren’t working, his face felt cold and clammy and there was so much salt it burned his nose burned his throat and then-  


Air.   


A respite.  


Coughing, gasping, screaming out when doing those things made his poor aching muscles and bones protest, but he needed to _breathe_.  


Plunging back under water before he had filled his lungs, panic as the weight on his chest grew. Thrashing, trying to get away. Laughter.   


“I’ll stop if you remember,” Breaker’s voice from somewhere far away. Remember what? What was he supposed to remember?  


More cold more salt more darkness more burning pain maker just let it stop.  


A hand in his hair jerking it to bring his ear closer to lips that spoke misery and salvation all at once. A cloth was removed from his face revealing Breaker standing over him with a large pitcher of water. “No one loves you but the Master,” Breaker said with calm certainty. “The whore you’re so hung up on gave you away for a few sovereigns. She’s probably fucking that dwarf as we speak.”  


No no no no not Hawke she wouldn’t give him away, wouldn’t sell him.  


“She gave you away,” Breaker said. “Say it.”  


“No-”  


The damp cloth covered him like a shroud once more.  


Salt. Cold. Burning. Can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t-  


“She gave you away,” Breaker said. “She didn’t care about you. Only Master cares about you. She sold you like the slave that you are.”  


“-Take him!”  


Fenris couldn’t find air to respond, but he gave an exhausted shake of his head.   


He heard a sigh and then his world exploded in agony as the blackstick was brought down on his ribs. He opened his mouth to scream, but then the water was back the water was back and he…  


Was.  


Gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could say that things are going to be less dark next chapter, but hopefully it at least helps to know that help is on the way? 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	21. Bare Your Blade, And Raise It High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stand Your Ground, The Dawn Will Come
> 
> Help Arrives, but are they in time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL ASSAULT, VIOLENCE, AFTERMATH OF TORTURE**
> 
> "The Dawn Will Come" belongs to Bioware

“SAIL HO!”  


Hawke leaped up from the table where she, Varric, and Isabela had been playing a desultory game of Diamondback, knocking the cards everywhere.   


“Did he just say-”  


“SAIL HO!”  


Her heart began to race and she launched herself up the ladder and onto the deck. She glanced north, but saw only the reflection of the setting sun on the water. Then, to her horror, she heard Captain Isura yelling “Heave to!”  


“No,” she whispered. Why were they slowing down? She raced up to the helm, where Captain Isura glanced in her direction and held up a hand. “In a minute, Messere,” she said. She turned away and barked orders at her sailors and by the time she was done Hawke’s companions and Jacob had joined her by the helm. A young man scurried down the ratline and hurried over.   


“Billie’s got ‘em in her sights,” he said enthusiastically. “Big galleon. Tevinter Sails.”  


“It has to be them,” Hawke breathed. “But why have we slowed down?”  


“We don’t want them seeing our sails,” the captain replied. “Unless they are utter fools, they’ll have lookouts of their own.” She nodded to the sun. “We’ll kill our running lights and put on sails once the sun is down.” Her smile was wolfish. “We’ll creep up on ‘em like a tiger, Messere, never you worry. Figure your friend is safer if they don’t know we’re coming.”  


Isabela grinned at the other Rivaini woman. “Spoken like a true pirate,” she said.   


Isura’s red-painted lips curled. “Privateer,” she corrected. “By your leave sir?” she said to Jacob, then hurried away shouting more orders.   


“We almost have them, Saoirse,” Jacob said gently.  


“It’s been over a week,” Hawke said, struggling to keep some modicum of calm. “What if-what if-”  


Hawke felt a warm hand clasp around hers and looked down at Varric. She saw her own thoughts reflected in his eyes. _Maker, please don’t let us be too late._

****

“Well now don’t you look nice?”  


The slave flinched as a trickle of water from his newly washed hair slid down his neck and between his shoulder blades. His wounds had been healed. His skin scrubbed and anointed with scented oil. Dark kohl outlined his eyes the way Master liked. He was naked under the linen robe he was to wear to Master’s quarters. He’d only been allowed the robe so that the sailors wouldn’t see Master’s property.   


And that was all he was. Anything else he might have been had disappeared beneath layers of pain and fear and exhaustion. He could not fight anymore. He was ready for it to be over. He was ready to be nothing.  


Property.   


“-Take him!”   


He swayed a little on his feet. It had been _so long_ since he’d last slept. There had been so much pain. And drowning. Over and over again his lungs fill with cold, salty water. He just wanted to sleep. Breaker had promised him that Master’s well-behaved property would be allowed sleep.   


Master’s property had been given away because Master was the _only_ one who loved him. The words had been carved into his consciousness every bit as deliberately as the tattoos had been carved into his skin.   


Only Master.   


Only Master.   


_Take him._   


A woman watching with wolf’s eyes the color of the sovereigns that had changed hands. Arm around a dwarf. They had given him away because he was worthless to them. His only worth was to his Master.   


He coughed, a painful, wracking cough that left him breathless. His lungs were so heavy.   


Breaker’s hand on his chin. “You’re going to be a good boy, right?” he asked, turning the property’s head back and forth.   


A slave nodded.   


Breaker smiled and clipped the leash to his collar, leading him out of the room of pain. He shuffled down the hallway, his body aching. Light at the end of the hallway. Blinding light. Lamps burning in every corner. Master liked to read. He needed light.   


“Ah, Livius, right on time.”   


The leash handed off. Door closing.   


Alone.   


“Look at me, Fenris.”  


Eyes up. A tug on the leash.   


“Take off your robe.”   


Instant compliance. Draping it neatly over a chair. Master didn’t like a mess.   


“Kneel.”  


Dropping down even though his muscles protest. Knees wide, feet together, hands palm up on his thighs. Eyes down.  


Ready.   


Master steps in front of him and he can see that the Master’s cock is hard. He feels some relief. His Master is pleased with his slave. Perhaps the pain will be of a different sort tonight. Perhaps he will even be allowed to sleep after.  


“I have missed you, my pet,” the Master says softly, caressing his cheek. “It pains me when you do these things and I have to punish you. But we’re going to put this whole nasty business behind us, aren’t we?”  


“Yes, Master.”  


“That’s a good boy. But first, there’s something I’d like you to do.”  


“Anything, Master.”   


A bowl that the slave knows is for magical workings is placed in front of him. It is filled with alchemical fire that glows purple. “Give me your hands.”  


Instant obedience. Two objects placed in his upturned hands.  


Red scarf.  


Gray plate?   


No.  


Gray...shield  


Gray shield with a redbird.   


Red bird.  


Red Hawk.  


Hawke.   


_I love you, Fenris._  


“Burn them,” Danarius says. “They are worthless relics of the people who abandoned you. Cast them aside so that you may once more be all mine.”  


_I love you, Fenris._  


It would have been better if they had abandoned him. Better that than knowing that golden eyes and gray eyes were forever glazed over, unseeing, unfeeling.   


Gone.   


Taken from him.  


Dead.  


Taken by _this_ man. His would-be Master.   


Danarius. The magister has overplayed his hand. If he had let Fenris forget his loss, forget Hawke, forget Varric, he would have had a broken man in his quarters, pliant to his will.   


But he wishes to twist the knife.   


Now, instead of the slave, he has the wolf. Not Little Wolf.  


Not property. Broken. Pliant. Lost.  


A wild thing.  


A hunter. Older. Scarred. Starving.  


No pack behind him anymore. They are dead.  


He has nothing. Nothing except his wits and fangs and   


Hate.  


The shield finds the flames first, crackling and curling in their heat. The scarf follows. Danarius must think him broken. Hawke would understand.  


Danarius jerks him to his feet, his thin lips claiming Fenris’, his tongue shoving past them as he reaches down to cup Fenris’ ass. He can feel Danarius’ cock straining against his belly and he knows that the old man has every intention of taking him. He does not want it, but he must bide his time.   


“How shall we celebrate?” Danarius asks, running a hand up and down Fenris’ stomach. Fenris knows it isn’t really a question. Danarius has something in mind. “I know,” he says. “It has been so taxing chasing you hither and yon. I think I would enjoy a massage from you, pet. And if you please me, perhaps I will let you sleep on your little bed. Do you remember?”  


He points to the dog bed at the foot of his own and it is all Fenris can do to keep his composure. The craven, wounded, exhausted part of him would do anything to close his eyes and rest.   


_Anything?_  


_No_. He can’t give in. She died for him. They both died for him. They wanted him to be free. If the only freedom he would know was the death that would surely follow his betrayal, then so be it. 

Perhaps then he would see them again.  


Danarius watched expectantly.   


“It would be my pleasure, Master,” he forced himself to say.   


“Undress me, my little wolf.”  


His skin is crawling with revulsion, but he does as he is bid. He feels Danarius’ eyes on him, but he keeps his downcast like a good slave. He moves mechanically, relying on memory and trying not to see what he is doing. But then it is done and Danarius is lying down on his bed with a pleased sigh. His hand is wrapped around the leash and he gives it a quick jerk to get Fenris’ attention.   


“Use the rose oil,” Danarius orders.   


Fenris takes the delicate bottle and pours some into his hands, rubbing them together to warm it. His hands remember what to do, and soon Danarius is grunting and letting out long moans that bring back memories, awful memories of the last time he was a slave. His hands on the leash have relaxed. In the past, the massage has always led to Danarius using him in one way or another. But that will not happen tonight.  


He would rather die.   


He leans forward, digging his elbow into Danarius’ back and getting some more play with the leash. Then, before he can lose his nerve, he wraps the leash around the magister’s throat and pulls it tight.   


Instantly his tattoos are one fire as the magister bucks beneath him, but he has made sure to wrap the leash around his hands so that they do not slip, even with the oil. His body screams in agony but it is only another voice in the chorus of pain that has been his reality for the lifetime he has been aboard the ship. Danarius rolls to the side, trying to dislodge him, and the two roll off the bed. Fenris lands on the bottom with the magister’s weight on top of him and for a moment he almost panics and lets go at the familiar, hated weight. He grits his teeth and tightens his grasp as their scuffle knocks over a table and the bowl where his most treasured possessions have burned to nothing. The fire, purple and unnatural, crawls along the cabin floor, igniting everything in its path.   


Fenris jerks the leash tight and feels a crunch that tells him he has crushed Danarius’ windpipe, but he does not let go. The pulses of pain are coming faster, but growing less all-encompassing with each one.   


Danarius is dying.   


_Dying._   


With the last of his strength, Fenris levers the old man off of himself and straddles him, glaring down into his eyes.  


Danarius’ are wide and frightened and angry as he clutches at the leash, sputtering weakly.   


“Saorise Hawke,” Fenris pants. “Varric Tethras. Saoirse Hawke. Varric Tethras. They were my _friends_ , Danarius. And she, she is the _only_ person I have _ever_ loved. I will _always_ love her.” He leaned down and glared into Danarius’ pale eyes. “Your death didn’t have to be the price of my freedom, Danarius. But it shall be. You are no longer my master!” He snaps Danarius’ neck with a final wrench of his hands, but there is no time. The fire is spreading, filling the cabin with smoke.   


There is nowhere to run. They are in the open ocean. But he does not have to die in here with Danarius. He throws open the cabin door and hears the sounds of alarm from above decks.  


The fire is spreading fast.  


“Master?” Breaker’s voice and then his pale eyes, narrow and full of rage. “What have you done?”   


Fenris recoils and Breaker’s blow only just misses him and he attacks without hesitation. The two of them go down in a tangle of limbs, but Fenris knows that this will be his last fight. He is too tired. Too sore. And it doesn’t matter anymore. Danarius is dead. And he will die a free man. He will be able to find her in the next life and look her in the eyes.   


Breaker twists out of his grasp and brings the Blackstick down. Reflexively, Fenris tries to shield himself, screaming as the hated weapon breaks his left forearm. Another blow falls on his head and Fenris is poleaxed, unable to move or breathe or think. He coughs in the thickening smoke, struggling to get air into his lungs.  


“Goodbye little wolf,” Breaker says with an ugly smile. “I hope that it is slow.”  


He is dimly aware of the Overseer stepping over him and into Danarius’ quarters. He returns with several bags of gold and disappears up the ladder to the deck.  


Up the ladder.   


He has to go up the ladder.   


He tries to get to his feet, but stumbles and crashes into the ladder. His arm screams with agony, or perhaps that’s just him, but he knows he has to climb.   


He’s just so tired.  


The smoke is filling him, pulling him down. He looks up and through the curling smoke he can see the twinkling stars.   


_You can’t stay down there, Fenris._ It is her voice in his head. Her lovely voice.   


“Where are you?” he rasps, losing his voice in another round of coughs.  


_Up here,_ she says and for a moment he thinks he sees the outline of her in the stars. _Come home to me._  


He feels the heat of tears on his face as he struggles to return to her. He wanted to go home. Rung by agonizing rung until he is in the open air under the stars and she is there next to him. He collapses against her shoulder and lets the smoke take him. _Home_.

****

Hawke stared ahead at the fire that blazed and wanted to scream. They were _so close_. It had been going so well. They had killed the running lights, piled on every inch of sail that they could, and crept up on the big galleon only to see a fire break out in what had to be one of the master cabins. It felt like it had taken forever to close the distance once the blaze started. Isura was doing all she could to bring them closer, but it was a dangerous thing. If the wind shifted too much the Arrow could go up too. The sailors were preparing to put down a longboat when one of the lookouts shouted: 

“LIFEBOAT TO PORT!”  


Hawke and her companions raced to the railings sure enough, there was a boat with a lone passenger rowing frantically.  


“Help!” the man in the boat yelled and Hawke’s heart sank. It wasn’t Fenris.   


The sailors threw a line down and soon the figure was scrambling up onto the deck, gasping his thanks. Isura lit a lantern since the galleon was going nowhere fast and Hawke gasped.  


Breaker. 

She cast Fist of the Maker and knocked the man hard to the deck. “You son of a bitch!” she snarled. “He’s Danarius’ creature,” she said to Aveline, who had come to stand at her shoulder.  


Aveline strode forward and knocked the big man to the ground as he tried to scramble to his feet. She held her sword to his throat, her lips curled with anger. His eyes were huge as he looked up at them.   


“I killed you,” he said to Hawke.   


“I’m back to haunt you,” she snarled. “Where’s Fenris?”  


“Dead,” Breaker said. “I killed him myself after he killed our master.” He gave her an ugly smile. “Not before the Master used him though. Moaned like a whore when the Master reclaimed what was his.”  


Hawke felt hot tears streaking down her face as she strode forward to where Aveline had Breaker pinned to the deck. She knelt next to him and pulled out the knife that Fenris had given her. “For Fenris,” she whispered. “And for me.” And then she slit his throat just as he had slit hers.   


She was shaking when she stood up and then with a scream, she cast Fist of the Maker and sent Breaker’s body hurtling out into the darkness. There was a splash, followed by smaller splashes as the sharks accepted her offering.   


“Hawke,” Aveline said gently. “I’m sure-”  


“Who’s coming with me?” Hawke asked, wiping the knife on her shirt and sheathing it. She couldn’t handle hearing the comforting words she knew Aveline was going to say. Not if they were too late.  


Varric, Isabela, Aveline, and two of Isura’s sailors ended up joining her in the longboat where they quickly rowed to the blazing ship. The crewmen threw ropes up to a section of deck that hadn’t gone up yet and the group of them swarmed up the sides of the massive ship. It was eerily empty.  


“The rest of the lifeboats are gone,” one of the sailors said.   


Isabela was looking down into the water, a sick expression on her face. “Look at all the sharks,” she said softly. “I don’t think there were more lifeboats. I think that was the magister’s and that was it.”  


“Sweet Maker,” Varric breathed. “What happened to the crew?”  


“Would you rather burn to death or take your chance in the water?” Isabela asked. “At least if you’re not wounded there’s a chance that the sharks won’t go for you.”  


Hawke heard their conversation as though from a great distance. Her eyes were fixed on something on the deck a few meters away.  


Something white.   


Lying still.  


“Fenris!” she breathed, launching herself over and calling up her Healing Aura. Fenris lay curled up on his side with his arm draped over a pile of sails. His head lolled horribly when she turned him over and she could see the sluggish flow of blood down the side of his face. His skin was icy to the touch.  


They were too late.   


“No!” she whispered. “No! Please, Fenris!” She unfastened the collar with shaking hands and threw it away from them with disgust. “Fenris, you’re free, we’re here, please...please just wake up!”  


“Not like this, Fenris,” Varric said, sounding miserable. “Come on, Broody.”  


“Hawke, the fire’s spreading,” Isabela said worriedly.  


“We can’t leave him here,” Hawke sobbed, brushing Fenris’ hair away from his wound. “We can’t-”  


Just then Fenris let out a long, deep cough, his whole body shuddering.  


“He’s alive!” Hawke gasped. “Thank the Maker! Aveline! Please-”  


“Get under his other arm,” Aveline said immediately.  


Hawke went to comply, but as soon as she touched his forearm she felt the bones shift and Fenris let out an awful little gasp of pain.  


“It’s broken,” she sobbed. “Fuck, Aveline-”  


“I’ve got him,” Aveline said. She dipped her shoulder and picked Fenris up as though he weighed nothing. With the help of Isura’s crew they were able to lower Fenris into the lifeboat and row away from the rapidly sinking galleon.   


Hawke sat in the bow with Fenris resting against her, tears streaming down her face. Varric had taken off his duster and draped it over Fenris and sat as close to them as he could, talking softly to the elf.   


She stroked Fenris’ hair, mindful of his wound, and whispered endearments to him the whole way back over to the Arrow. It broke her heart to get Fenris up onto the fast ship because every single motion made him gasp or whimper. But the crew of the Arrow and her friends worked hard and fast and within moments they had Fenris safely ensconced in a stateroom.   


“I can help,” Anders said.   


Hawke hesitated knowing that Fenris wouldn’t want Anders to have a part in his healing. “Thank you,” she said, giving him a wan smile. “But for now...it’s better if it’s just me. I-I’ll call you if I need you, ok?” she asked.   


She caught the worry that flashed across Anders face, but he nodded to her and left her alone with Varric.  


“How can I help?” Varric asked as they washed their hands.   


“Help me get him cleaned up so we can see how bad the damage is,” she said.   


Varric nodded and together they went to work cleaning the soot and grime and blood from Fenris’ body. His olive skin told a horrific story of what he had suffered in the past week. Dozens upon dozens of bruises covered him, all of them in different stages of healing. His breath rattled in his lungs and though he had always been lean, his ribs had begun to show.   


“They were starving him,” Hawke growled. “The fucking animals.” She leaned her head against his chest lightly, worried by the sound of his breath. She had heard breathing like that before and knew that it could easily lead to death if not handled appropriately. Once she was sure that none of Fenris’ ribs were broken, she and Varric propped him up slightly with pillows. He coughed, but it sounded as though he was breathing a little easier.   


Taking a deep breath, Hawke set to work on the ugly head wound. There was a massive knot terrifyingly close to his temple and the skin had split open. Gently she encouraged the swelling to abate and the skin to knit back together. She only used a thin trickle of magic, terrified of hurting him or causing some sort of lasting damage. Head wounds were dangerous. Once the worst of the swelling had gone down and the wound was closed, Hawke had Varric apply a cold compress while she tackled the broken arm. Healing his broken arm was relatively straightforward at least, though she hated the little whimpers of pain from Fenris as she worked. But he was alive, and that was what mattered.   


Finally, Fenris was resting as comfortably as he could.   


“The rest is up to you, Broody,” Varric said quietly. He kissed Hawke on the forehead and went to update their friends.  


Hawke leaned on her elbows and gently took Fenris’ hand. “Please,” she whispered. “I’m sorry it took me so long, but please... _please_ wake up. Please come back to me.” She pressed her lips to his hand and lapsed into silence, staring down at him. Surely they hadn’t come so far for him to be taken from her now? 

****

“Saoirse?”  


Jacob’s voice jerked her out of her reverie and Hawke blinked and sat up, wincing as her back cracked. She looked down at Fenris and saw that he was breathing more easily, which was a blessing at least.   


“How is he?” Jacob asked softly, pulling a stool up next to her.  


She shook her head and reached out, tucking the blankets in more tightly around Fenris. “I think that he will be ok, with time.” She swallowed hard. “Physically, at least.”  


“You did everything you could have done,” Jacob said gently. “You have to know that, Saoirse.”  


“I still feel like I let him down,” she whispered. “I can only guess how he suffered, Jacob, and it’s because I-”  


“It’s because the magister and his cronies were monsters,” Jacob said firmly. “ _That_ is why he suffered, Saoirse. It wasn’t because of you. It was because of _them_.” He reached out and took her hand. “Varric sent me down. He says you need to rest.”   


“I can’t leave Fenris,” she said immediately.   


“You won’t do him any good if you collapse from exhaustion,” Jacob said. “Aveline is on her way down to sit with him. She will come and get you the second anything changes.” He gave her a little smile, though it was slightly forced. “She said to tell you that if you don’t come up on your own she’s going to carry you.”  


Hawke managed a wavering smile. “All right,” she said. They rose and she felt every single bone in her body creak. Her Healing Aura had remained active throughout the night, so she was even more tired than usual. “Jacob?”  


He glanced down at her. “Yes?”  


She hugged him tightly around the waist. “How can I ever thank you?” she whispered. “If we hadn’t had the Arrow, they would have gotten him to Minrathos and…” she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. “I owe you his life, Jacob. I don’t know how to repay that.”  


His smile was so kind, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes that made her ache. “Live well,” he said softly. “And be happy. That is all I ask of you.”  
He wiped away the tears that streaked down her face and the two of them embraced again before there was a knock on the door. Aveline entered and raised an eyebrow at Hawke. “Am I carrying you?” she asked.  


“You’ll tell me if anything changes?” she asked.   


“Of course, Hawke,” Aveline said gently. “Now go to bed.”  


But nothing changed.  


Nothing changed for the entirety of their voyage back to Kirkwall.  


Nothing changed when they transferred Fenris so gently to the carriage, or from the carriage to the guest suite at Hawke’s estate.   


Hawke sat in the armchair in the bedroom portion of the suite, a book open on her lap. She spent a lot of time reading to Fenris. But it didn’t seem like he heard her. Physically, he seemed to be mending, but she was terrified that his head wound had been worse than she thought and she’d somehow missed it or made it worse. A tear struck the page, smearing the ink, and she swiped at them angrily. This _couldn’t_ be how it ended. It just couldn’t.   


She stayed with him until the sun had gone down once more and then went to make a fire. She did it just as she had in his home all those years ago, hoping that it would at least be a comforting presence if he woke in the middle of the night.  


“Hawke?”  


“In here,” she replied quietly to Varric.   


“How is he?” Varric asked.   


She shrugged and felt the tears start to tumble down her cheeks.   


He wrapped an arm around her shoulder with a sad sigh. “I know, sweetheart,” he said. “Me too.” They stayed that way for a few minutes before Varric gave her a critical look. “You need to eat, Hawke. And sleep. You’ve barely left his side in days.”  


“Neither have you,” she retorted.   


“I’ve slept more than you have,” Varric said firmly. “I’m not going to argue with you about it, Saoirse.”  


“I’m not going upstairs,” she said, knowing that she’d already lost the fight. “I’ll lie down in the front room of the suite if you’re going to make me-”  


“I am.”  


“Will you stay?”  


Varric kissed her forehead. “Don’t I always?”  


He took her hand and pulled her to her feet, catching her when she swayed with exhaustion.   


She leaned over Fenris and brushed his hair away from his eyes. “Please come back to me,” she whispered.   


“Come on, sweetheart,” Varric said gently. Together they went to the sitting room of the guest suite and sat on the overstuffed couch in front of the fire. Orana had left a tray for them, but even though Hawke knew she should be hungry she just...wasn’t. Still, with Varric’s gentle chiding she managed to eat a little cheese and a roll and a slice or two of apple. She struggled to keep her eyes open for the last few bites.   


“C’mere,” Varric said. She leaned against his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her, resting his head against hers. “He’s going to be ok,” Varric said firmly. “Rest so that _when_ he wakes up, you’re ready. Your story isn’t over yet.”  


It was a nice thought and one that she could cling to as sleep quickly crept up and claimed her. _Please come back to me_ , she thought as she drifted off. _Please_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that the Danarius stuff wasn't too awful for anyone to read. I did not enjoy writing it. There is actually a version of this portion of the fic where Hawke is taken instead of Fenris because Danarius just comes across as so...gross to me and I really wasn't trying to write Fenris getting sexually assaulted in my fic. I hope that this feels like an ok balance to you guys. I tried to keep their relationship believably gross and upsetting without getting graphic. I also think it is reasonable believe that after over a week of torture, sleep deprivation, and whatever magical fuckery I'm sure Danarius had going in Fenris' mind for the duration of his time about the Victory that Fenris would have retreated to a place in his mind that would allow him to survive. I think it's a reflection of his strength as a person, but it still broke my heart to write.
> 
>   
> Moving forward, Congrats, fam! Y'all made it through what I consider the darkest part of this fic! We are going to have a lot of hurt/comfort coming up and eventually even fluff and more "smutty literature". Thank you for sticking with me!


	22. The Dawn Will Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris struggles with giving in to hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **AFTERMATH OF TORTURE & SEXUAL ASSAULT**  
> 
> 
> The Dawn Will Come belongs to Bioware.

Golden light touched his eyelids and it slowly drew Fenris out of the darkness he had long since sunk into. His body was warm, cocooned in softness and mercifully free of pain. It seemed too good to be true. The last thing he remembered was following Hawke’s voice out to the stars and then...nothing except the stench of blood and smoke.  


But here, here he could smell lavender and feel something soft caressing his cheek. Here he felt comforted and safe and he knew that could only mean one thing.  


He had died.  


It would seem that he had done enough good in his life that what came next for him was something beautiful.  


He ventured to crack an eye open and found himself staring up into heavy velvet curtains whose deep scarlet was tinged with gold at the borders by the sunlight streaming in the huge window. Next to him there was a vase filled with sunflowers and he felt his lips curl in a smile. Hawke had loved sunflowers for their audacity to become so much larger than life.  


Lavender scented sheets, sunflowers in the room, scarlet velvet...he realized that he was in Hawke’s house. He let out a soft chuckle. Didn’t Sebastian always say that the afterlife looked different to everyone? It figured that the “Bosom of the Maker” would look like her home to him. It was the closest thing that he had ever had to a home. And perhaps if this was his final resting place, it was hers as well. Perhaps he could see her and tell her the things he had never gotten to tell her while he was alive.   


That thought decided him. Though he was at loathe to leave the comforting embrace of the bed, he had to see if he could find her. Maybe Varric would find them too. Maybe he would get a chance to tell them both how sorry he was. How much he loved them.   


He sat up and winced. He supposed that it was too much to hope for that the afterlife be utterly free of pain. His chest felt oddly tight. He shook it off and swung his legs over the side of the bed, sliding down onto the floor. However, when he went to take a step he felt the room spin around him. He clutched at the post of the bed feeling his heart pound. Maybe it wasn’t the afterlife. Maybe it was a trick, an illusion by his captors to torture him further.   


“Did you hear something?”  


The sob tore from his lips before he even realized that he was crying. It was _her_ voice. Hawke. _Please, please just let me see her one last time before this is taken away,_ he thought desperately. _Please_.  


The door on the other side of the room swung open and Fenris found himself staring into the luminous golden eyes of his great love. Just behind her was Varric, his gentle eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled.  


“Fenris!” Hawke gasped. “Don’t move!” She ran across the room to him, but he was already lurching towards her.   


They caught each other in the pool of light from the window and Fenris wrapped his arms around her as tight as he could as tears streamed down his face. He felt Varric’s strong arms circle around them both and for a moment he just allowed himself to feel the warmth and love and comfort and it was so beautiful it took his breath away.   


“Hawke,” he whispered. “Varric, please-please forgive me!”  


“Shhhh,” she whispered. “There’s nothing to forgive, Fenris.”  


“I got you both _killed_ ,” he sobbed. “I _saw_ them kill you. It was all my fault. If I had just listened to you, if I had brought Aveline and the guard, they would not have-they-” He pulled back and looked back and forth between them, terrified that he would see the censure that must surely be in their eyes. But he saw no anger, only concern. The golden light struck both of them, making them look like sparkling, perfect spirits. “Before this is taken away, I had to tell you I was sorry. I had to tell you that I-” he brought his hand up and caressed her cheek. She felt so solid, so warm and real and utterly perfect. “I love you, Saoirse. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before they took you from me, but I do, I always have. Nothing-nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.”  


“I love you too,” she said quietly. She gave a little smile, though her lips quivered. “You need to get back in bed,” she said gently. “You’re exhausted.”  


He clutched at her, suddenly terrified. What if he went back to sleep and this was gone? What if it wasn’t the afterlife, but a trick? What if he woke up and there was no warmth, no light, only pain and the cold certainty that these two people who he held the most dear were dead and buried in graves that he would never see?  


“Please,” he whispered. “Please...I can’t say goodbye again! I can’t lose you both again!”   


“Fenris,” Varric’s voice was rough with emotion and Fenris felt the warm solidity of his hand on his shoulder. “We aren’t going anywhere,” he said.   


“You _will_!” Fenris said, panic gripping him now. “It’s a trick! It has to be a trick. You are both dead and the afterlife is _not_ supposed to hurt, so I must yet live. And that can only mean that this is some new torture meant to break my spirit.”  


_I am already broken._   


The darkness was creeping in at the edge of his vision now.  


“Fenris, I want you to listen to me,” Hawke said gently, but firmly. “We are alive. All of us. I swear it to you. You’re safe, love, but you need to rest.”  


He wanted to believe her more than anything he had ever wanted in his life, but the darkness was pressing closer and closer until it extinguished the beautiful golden light and he fell down into silence. 

****

Varric had seen that Fenris was about to collapse and he managed to catch the elf before he could hurt himself. Working with Hawke, they lifted Fenris back onto the bed and tucked him in. Only when he was settled did Hawke let out a broken sob.   


“It’s ok, sweetheart,” Varric said, pulling her in for a hug. “It’s all right. He’s all right.”  


“He thinks he’s _dead_ ,” Hawke breathed and Varric could feel her shaking. “Maker, Varric, that’s the saddest thing that I have ever heard.”  


Privately, Varric agreed. It was in that moment that he decided that this whole painful, awful mess was _not_ going into the Tale of the Champion. Fuck sharing all of this anguish with strangers. They would defeat the arrogant magister in the Hanged Man and no one would ever know how badly they had suffered together. That was just for them.   


“But he’s alive,” Varric forced himself to say. “He’s alive, Hawke, and we’ll convince him of it once he’s a little more rested.” He did his best to smile at her. “And don’t think I missed what he said to you. ‘Nothing could be worse than living without you’. That’s _definitely_ going in the book.”  


Hawke let out a surprised little laugh and elbowed him gently in the side. “Shut up,” she said, but at least she was smiling.   


“I’m going to go and ask Orana to get some broth ready for when he wakes up again,” Varric said.   


“Help me move these chairs first,” Hawke said, gesturing at the pair of heavy chairs by the fire. “I want us to be what he sees when he wakes up next time.”  


When she was settled next to the bed Varric hurried off to find Orana. He shut the bedroom door behind himself and took a moment to try and get himself together. He was so relieved. Though he’d hidden it from Hawke, he’d started to wonder if Fenris was going to be one of those people who fell into a deep sleep and just...never woke up. He knew that if that happened, Hawke would spend her entire life waiting for the man she loved to show the spark of life again. He would have lost both of them as surely as he was standing there. He felt the dampness of tears on his face as he offered a quick prayer to whoever was listening, thanking them for the return of his friends. When he was sure that he had regained his composure, Varric took a deep breath, wiped his face, and went in search of Orana. For the first time in a long time he truly had hope that everything might actually be all right.

****

There was light in the darkness. It was not the golden light from before, but something more familiar. His eyelids were tinted with flickering light from a fire. Hawke’s fire. The one that burned in his stolen mansion. Another dream then.   


At least he was warm still. And the ache in his chest had subsided.   


And there a voice. A beloved voice speaking familiar words.  


“The houses of the Garden had no numbers,” Varric read and if his throat hadn’t closed with emotion Fenris would have laughed. Of _course_ Varric was reading him Hard in Hightown. Varric had insisted that it be one of the first books he practiced his reading on. “The nobles instead hung metal plaques with their heraldry over the lintels of their doors. Two houses past the rampant duck with a wing full of arrows and-”   


“left of the dragon stomping on a field of wheat,” Fenris whispered without opening his eyes.   


Varric chuckled, such a warm, comforting sound. “I _knew_ that you liked Hard in Hightown, Broody.”  


Fenris took a deep breath and forced himself to crack an eye open. Varric’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked over from his chair. Hawke leaned against his shoulder, snoring softly.  


“How are you feeling?” Varric asked quietly.   


Fenris swallowed hard. “Is it real?” he asked. His voice sounded unbelievably rough. He coughed and Hawke’s eyes fluttered open.   


“Fenris!” she breathed. She reached out towards him and then stopped, her lovely eyes wide and uncertain.   


Though it was a monumental effort, he lifted his hand and reached for her. He felt his eyes prickle as her warm, soft fingers twined through his. _Maker, he had missed holding her hand._  


“Is this real?” he asked again, scarcely daring to hope. It would have been unlike his captors to keep a charade going this long, but he couldn’t shake the fear that it would all be taken away if he allowed himself to believe it.  


“Yes,” Hawke said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “It is. You are back in Kirkwall, in my house because I wasn’t about to leave you in that drafty pile you call a mansion.” Her eyes had grown shiny. “You’ve been asleep for about ten days.”  


“Hell of a nap,” he said, echoing the words she’d spoken when she’d finally awakened after the Arishok fight.   


“Oh Fenris,” she whispered, tears starting to track down her face. “You’re safe, love. I swear it.”  


“I love you,” he said, before the chance could be taken away from him again. He glanced at Varric. “Both of you. I’m sorry that-”  


“Shhh,” Varric said, shaking his head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Fenris.”  


“What he said,” Hawke agreed, giving his hand a little squeeze. “If anything, I’m sorry. I always promised you that I wouldn’t let them take you and-”  


“You _died_ trying to stop them,” Fenris said, closing his eyes as he felt the spray of blood on his face. He squeezed her hand, suddenly terrified to look. Didn’t shades come back to haunt people who had wronged them? “You died. Both of you. I saw it. How can this be real?” He jerked his hand back and wrapped his arms around himself, overcome by a wave of shivering. A trick, it _had_ to be a trick.  


“Fenris, please look at me,” Hawke’s voice was gentle, but firm.   


He took a deep breath to steady himself and then opened his eyes. Hawke had grabbed a candle from the candelabra and was holding it about a foot beneath her chin. She tilted her chin up and Fenris saw a vivid, red scar. Wordlessly, she passed the candle to Varric who pulled the front of his shirt open. There were three puckered scars where Fenris remembered the bolts hitting.   


“How?” he gasped. “How is it possible?”  


Varric chuckled and handed the candle back to Hawke. “Because our friend here was two steps ahead of the magister,” he said, his light tone belying the darkness that Fenris saw in his eyes. “She had already started healing us both when they struck the killing blows. That, paired with making sure backup would be coming meant we had a fighting chance.”   


“It was a close call,” Hawke said quietly. “But we made it.”  


“Can I-” Fenris hesitated, but Hawke, like always, seemed to know what he needed. She leaned forward, bending over the bed with her chin tilted to the side. Fenris reached up with a hand that shook and brushed his fingertips over the scar, feeling the hardness of its edges where the scar tissue was the thickest. “Saoirse,” he whispered. She smiled down at him and he slid his hand back behind her head, gently pulling.  


She responded right away, letting him pull her down and resting her forehead against his. “It’s me,” she said quietly.   


He wanted to kiss her, but his last kiss, his last kiss had been-he shuddered and she jerked away, guilt written all over her face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I-you did nothing wrong. I just…”  


“You don’t need to explain,” she said, taking his hand again. She took a deep breath. “How are you feeling?” she asked, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. “Are you hungry?”  


His stomach rumbled in response and Varric chuckled and rose. “I’ll go and get that broth,” he said.   


“Varric!” Panicking that his friend would leave and he’d never see him again, Fenris pushed himself up on his elbows before he thought about it. His body protested the sudden motion and he winced with pain.  


Varric put a hand on his shoulder and gently nudged him. “Lie down, Broody. I’ll be right back, I promise.”  


Fenris took a deep breath and nodded, allowing himself to fall back against the pillows.   


“Here,” Varric said. He unclasped the heavy necklace that he always wore and then reached out and put it in Fenris’ hand, closing his fingers around it. “When you start wondering if it’s real, this’ll remind you.”  


“But you-your father-”  


“You’ll give it back when you’re certain of us,” Varric said with a lopsided smile. He patted Fenris on the shoulder and hurried from the room.  


Fenris tightened his hand around the heavy necklace. It was still warm. It was real. It _had_ to be real.  


“Hard to top that,” Hawke said wryly, startling a chuckle from him. “You can’t deny Varric’s got style.”   


“Hawke,” Fenris said. “I-never thought that I would see you again, touch you again, hold you again, anything I need-” the words left him as he stared up into her eyes. He was so afraid to say anything to break the spell.   


“Anything,” she said, squeezing his hand.   


“Can you...can we sit…” his heart was pounding as he tried to make himself ask.  


“Like we used to when we were reading?” she asked softly.  


He nodded, his heart swelling. She _always_ knew. She always knew what he needed.   


Tears had started tumbling down her face again and he longed to kiss every one of them away. Her hands, her gentle, loving hands, helped him sit up and she scooted into bed behind him. She waited, letting him decide when to move, and he collapsed back against her with a sob. He turned and buried his face in her neck, wrapping his arms around her as tightly as he could. His still-healing body ached at the exertion, but he needed it. He _needed_ to feel her against him to know that it wasn’t a dream. That it wasn’t going to be taken away from him again. “Hawke!”  


“Shhhhhh,” she whispered, her fingertips stroking up and down his back. “I’ve got you, love.”  


He nuzzled closer to her and felt his heart constrict when the hard edge of her scar brushed against his nose. He could feel the blood spraying on his face, see her dropping lifeless next to Varric-  


“I’m here,” she whispered, tightening her arms around him. He realized that he’d been making soft, panicky sounds as he repeated her name over and over.   


He squeezed the necklace and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her skin. One of her hands had traveled to his hair, stroking through it just like she used to. “I’ve got you,” she said again, and he could have cried when she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.   


They sat for what felt like a lifetime and no time at all before he heard Varric’s voice softly asking: “Is he awake, Hawke?”  


“I am,” Fenris said, opening his eyes and doing his best to smile at Varric.  


Varric’s answering smile was an understanding one and the dwarf approached the bed holding a tray with soft rolls and a deep bowl filled with clear, amber liquid. It smelled divine. “Orana’s bone broth,” Varric said, setting the tray down across Fenris’ lap.   


Fenris picked up the spoon and dipped it into the broth, but when he went to bring it to his lips his hands shook so badly that he dribbled soup down his shirt and on the coverlet.   


He flinched from the blow that came when you made a mess and wasted the precious little food that was given to you. _Pathetic, wasteful, worthless_ -  


“It’s all right, Fenris,” Varric said quietly. “It’s all right.”   


“Come back to us, love,” Hawke said in his ear.   


He opened his eyes in time to see the worried look that Varric was giving Hawke. “I’m sorry,” he said. He wasn’t even sure which part he was apologizing for. Making a mess? Being a mess?  


“Lean back,” Varric said, scooting his chair closer to the bed.   


Frowning with confusion, he did as Varric bade and felt Hawke’s hands in his hair, her fingernails gently trailing along his scalp. His heart began to slow down and his hands slowly stopped shaking. 

He opened his eyes and reached for the spoon only to find that Varric was holding it.   


“Relax,” the dwarf said. “I’ve got you. I want to make sure _some_ of this gets in you.”  


“You don’t have to-”  


“I _want_ to,” Varric said gently. “But if you ever tell anyone I’ll deny it until I’m blue in the face. Now drink your soup.”  


Fenris complied, his entire body warming all the way through with their kindness. What had he ever done to deserve it? Varric was so patient as he fed him and Hawke’s hands were so tender, before long Fenris found himself nodding.   


“I think that’s enough for now,” Hawke said softly. She shifted out from behind him and helped him lie down.   


“Hawke,” Fenris hesitated. They had done so much for him that he didn’t feel he had any right to ask anything else.  


“I’m not going anywhere,” Hawke said. Her full lips curled into a loving smile. “Or was there something else you needed?”  


Fenris shook his head. His eyelids were so heavy. “You always know,” he murmured.   


Her lips brushed against his forehead. “Sleep well, love,” she said softly.

Fenris smiled and sank back into the pillow, allowing sleep to take him. Perhaps he really was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hard in Hightown belongs to Bioware
> 
> I really hope that this chapter was an easier read and that you all enjoyed it (yay being able to say _that_ again). It's nothing but fluff for a good while as everyone recovers. <3


	23. Promises Kept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris feels compelled to talk through what happened aboard the Victory with both Hawke and Varric is surprised by their reactions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of torture and sexual assault. PTSD**

_You thought that you could be free of me.  
_

_No. No. No. No. He had gotten away. He had been rescued. He was home. He was home. He had to be home. But when he opened his eyes, he was in Danarius’ cabin, cowering against the wall._

_Danarius had a livid purple mark around his throat that was all too visible as he raised the leash and brought it down hard on Fenris’ side.  
_

_Oh Maker, he had failed. Please, Master no-  
_

_He curled tighter on himself, wrapping his arms around his head to ward off the blows. But there was something around his hand, something heavy and metallic and when he saw it he knew he **knew**. _

_Varric’s necklace. His anchor. He was home. They were alive.  
_

_I am **NOT** your slave! He roared at Danarius, lurching to his feet._  


“Fenris!” he jerked awake at her voice and realized that he was halfway off of the bed and being held up by Hawke. She had caught him before he could drop to the floor. “I’ve got you,” she said.  


“Evidently,” he replied wryly, wincing as she helped him get back on the bed. He heard her give a little chuff of laughter. “Thank you,” he said once he was propped up against the pillows.   


“Of course,” she said, reaching out and taking his hand. "Are you hungry? Do you need to eat something? Maybe that would help." 

"In a bit, perhaps," Fenris said. He looked down at where Varric's necklace was wrapped around his wrist and brought the necklace to his forehead, closing his eyes for a moment. He took a deep breath. “Hawke...can we...talk?”  


“Yes,” she said. “Absolutely." She left the chair and came around to the other side of the bed, climbing up to sit cross-legged beside him. “We should be uninterrupted for a little bit,” she said, taking his hand. “I managed to convince Varric to go lie down about half an hour ago. Unless you want to wait so he can hear it too.”  


Fenris shook his head. “I-I will tell him parts later,” he said, his stomach churning. “But there are things I would prefer to be for your ears only.”  


Hawke nodded. “You can tell me anything,” she said. “I hope you know that. But you also don’t _have_ to tell me anything.”  


“I do, though,” Fenris said miserably. What if his words disgusted her? What if she heard them and could never look at him the same way again? “I do because I cannot stand the thought of keeping something from you that might change how you see me. If we are to-to” he struggled to get the words out. “If we are to be together...I need you to know the truth of me,” he finished lamely.   


“All right,” she said softly. “I’m here, Fenris.”  


He took a deep breath and began to talk.   


“Hawke...I woke up in the Victory thinking that you and Varric...that you had died, because of me.” He fiddled with Varric’s necklace. “I cannot describe to you the guilt that I felt. Or the grief. I think that I was already broken before either Breaker or Danarius had begun their work.” Hawke reached for his hand and he took it, though he couldn’t look at her. “Certainly my heart was broken,” he said. He felt her warm fingers squeeze his. “The things that happened aboard the Victory...the things Breaker _did_...though my heart was broken already, my body and mind took more time." He heard a soft sound of dismay from Hawke and he clenched his eyes shut, unable to look at her. "I was beaten. Badly. Many of my bones were broken. Then I was healed with a potion, but _only_ so that the bones could be broken again. I was bound with my face covered so that Breaker could pour water over me and-and _drown_ me. Repeatedly. And I was never, _ever_ allowed to sleep.” 

Hawke squeezed his hand gently and he though he could hear the sorrow in her voice, it was backed by an edge of rage. "Those fucking monsters," she said in a low, dangerous voice. "Fenris, I don't have words to tell you how sorry I am that you endured all that. But it doesn't change anything, I promise you." 

Fenris shook his head, his heart hammering so hard he felt dizzy. "I only tell you that so that you understand that-that...it took them time and-and _work_ to break me. Because they _did_ break me, Hawke. They had me all but convinced that you and Varric were alive,” he confessed. “That you had sold me back to Danarius. And I think I-I think I wanted to believe it. Because if you had, then you had not died because of me.” He shook his head, squeezing Varric's necklace so hard that the beads left little indentations in his palm. “I hate that I allowed myself to believe it. Even in passing. But if you were alive...all it meant was that I was never worth…” He swallowed hard. “Better that I be nothing to either of you than you both be dead and buried in graves I would never see,” he said quietly.   


“Oh, love,” she whispered.  


“Once I had accepted that you were alive and just did not care for me...it was easy to let Breaker prepare me to be-be…” he struggled to get the word out. “Used,” he finally spat. “I let him line my eyes with kohl and oil my body and prepare me to be every bit the willing slave that I was in another life. It was pathetic. Weak.”   


Her thumb stoked the back of his hand, and he glanced over and saw that she wore the same neutral expression she’d worn when he first told her about the nature of his relationship with Danarius. 

“There is nothing pathetic about that, Fenris,” she said gently. “Nothing weak, do you hear me? You did what you had to do to stay alive. I could never think less of you for that.”  


“I was going to let him have me!” he said, jerking his hand away and wrapping his arm around his waist. “Damn it, Hawke! I was going to just-just... _let_ him-” his throat closed as tears started to fall and he felt doubly ashamed. “Damn it.”  


“Fenris I-”  


“Please let me finish,” he managed to grit out. “If I stop, I do not think I will ever again be able to start.”   


She went silent beside him.   


“Danarius had your scarf,” he said. “And your crest. He bade me to burn them. And that...something in me just...broke. I saw you die. I heard your last words to me. And I knew that I was going to join you that night. I burned those things, my most precious things, so that he would not know that I had remembered. I let him think that he was going to have me. And then I attacked him. Strangled him with the very leash that he had put around my neck. I wish I could say I started the fire deliberately, but it started in the scuffle. Breaker left me for dead belowdecks...but I heard your voice, Hawke, I heard you call to me from the stars and I wanted so badly to be with you. That is all I remember.” He hung his head. “I just...wanted you to know that I-I was not strong enough. That I _broke_. That I let them make me think that you and Varric would _ever_ betray me like that when you _died_ protecting me. When you have spent weeks taking care of me.” Tears were coming faster as all of his fear began to pour out of him in an uncharacteristic deluge of words. “When Varric has given me the loan of one of his most cherished possessions and fed me like a child. When you have barely rested and even now sit and let me pour out my heart and ask me for nothing-”  


“Enough,” she said softly. 

“How can you ever look at me the same way?” He asked and he could hear the desperation in his voice.   


She was quiet for what felt like the longest minute of his life before she rose up on her knees and cupped his face in her warm, soft hands. Her eyes shone, but there was such intensity in them it took his breath away.“You’re right,” she said softly, “I will never look at you the same, Fenris,” she said. “You returned to Danarius, to _slavery_ to protect me and Varric. You gave up _everything_ so that we would be safe.”  


“But it didn’t-”  


“That’s because Danarius was a piece of shit, not because of you,” she said firmly. “You did the most noble thing I could imagine anyone ever doing, you’re damn right I can’t look at you the same way.” Tears were streaking down her face, but her voice was steady and strong. “Fenris, I told you before that you were the strongest, bravest person that it’s been my privilege to know. But fuck me, I had _no idea_. You’re a hero. You’re _my_ hero. My _Champion_." Her glorious eyes had once again taken on the feral intensity of a wolf’s. “That you took steps to survive, that you are alive and here with me...to me _all_ that means is that you were keeping the promise we made to each other the day you gave me this.” She pulled out the little wolf knife and Fenris felt his eyes widen. He couldn’t believe she’d held on to it. “We promised that we’d do what we had to to find a way back to each other. And that once we did, we would find somewhere we could be free together,” she said. She reached up and touched the scar on her throat, her eyes seeking out his. “I’d say we kept that promise.”  


The intensity in her gaze, the passion in her words, the sight of the scar that showed just how close he had come to losing her forever, it all overwhelmed him and he lunged towards her with a sob, wrapping his arms around her so tightly it made his bones ache.   


“Hawke-”  


“My Champion,” she whispered in his ear. “Do you understand, Fenris?”   


He couldn’t find words, so he kissed her and if he’d been inclined to share it, it would have been one for one of Varric’s books. He poured every ounce of his love, his terror, his relief, every bit of it into kissing her like the world was about to end around them. Her hands were in his hair and it felt so good, so safe, so familiar. He could feel her smiling into the kiss and couldn't help but smile back, utterly content for a precious moment.  


He wanted to stay that way forever, but his still healing body had other ideas. He felt a spasm of pain through his back and arched away from her before he could catch himself. He _hated_ the look on her face when the paroxysm had subsided. It was one of fear and guilt and sorrow and he reached out and brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “You did nothing wrong,” he grunted. “I-” he flinched as another spasm hit him. “My back aches. It is being...difficult.”  


“I can help,” she said, and he caught the brief flicker of relief in her eyes. “Can you lie on your stomach?”  


“Why?” he asked, his heart starting to beat faster.   


“I can rub your back,” she said. “It’ll help.”  


He closed his eyes and felt her weight move closer to him on the bed.   


“Oh Fenris,” she said. “He made you do that for him, didn’t he?” she asked softly.   


He nodded, not able to meet her eyes.  


She brushed his hair away from his forehead. “It was just an idea,” she said with false brightness. “I can do a little healing for you, if you want. Or get a hot water bottle. Or-”  


“No,” he said with determination. “No, I...I should like to try. I am no longer a slave or a-a _prisoner_. I would like to be able to accept a loving gesture from my…” he trailed off. He had no idea what to call her. “My…”  


Hawke cocked her head, a mischievous smile on her face. “Friend?” she asked innocently.   


He snorted. “Always, but that is not quite...enough.”  


“Accomplice?”  


He grinned at her, feeling some of the tension drain away. “Occasionally, yes.”  


“Hmmm,” she said, tapping a finger to her lip. She glanced down at him. “Lover?” she asked, batting her eyelashes in a most over-the-top fashion.   


He chuckled at her teasing, even as he felt a jolt through his whole body and down through his groin. He reached for her hand. “Soon, I hope,” he promised seriously, looking up into her eyes. He saw the heat flare in them and was certain it was mirrored in his own expression. He was gratified to see her shiver just slightly before she leaned closer and rubbed her nose against his.   


“How about ‘partner’?” she asked.  


He kissed her, feeling his heart swell. “Yes,” he whispered. “I would like to be able to accept a loving gesture from my partner. From _you_.”  


She was smiling against his lips and Maker knew that he was grinning like a fool when she pulled back. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I want you to heal, Fenris, and that means feeling safe.”  


“Nothing makes me feel safer than your hands on my body,” he said and then blushed because it came out rather more...suggestive than he had intended it to.  


She caught her breath and he saw equal hunger in the way that she looked at him. “Good to know,” she murmured, caressing his cheek. “For...healing purposes, of course.”  


“Of course,” he croaked as his body stridently offered suggestions for places she could put her hands. But he was nowhere near ready for that. He couldn’t. Not yet. He swallowed hard. “I trust you, Hawke. If you think that it would help, I am willing to try.”  


“If you’re sure,” she said gently. “I really do think it’ll help, but only if it doesn’t take you to a dark place.”  


“I promise I will tell you if it becomes too much,” he said, making the promise because he knew that she would ask for it.   


“All right,” she said with a little smile. “Will you be ok if I go and get some oil?”  


_Naked and oiled for his Master. Waiting. Willing. Ready to be used however Master sees fit. Rubbing the oil into his Masters skin and hearing the way he moans knowing that soon he will be making those sounds because he is using his slave-_  


“No oil!” he gasped, grasping her wrist.   


Her eyes were wide and worried when he was able to meet them. “Fenris-”  


“I’m fine,” he gritted out, willing the images back into the shadows where he knew they were there but at least he didn’t have to look at them. “I’m fine. I just...please. No oil.”  


“We don’t have to do this, love,” she said, bringing his hand up to her face and kissing his knuckles. “We really don’t.”  


He flinched as another spasm tore through his back. The sudden rictus of fear that had shot through his body obviously was irritating his aching muscles. “I want to,” he said quietly. “Truly. Just…”  


“No oil,” she finished. “I promise.”  


He nodded and, with her help, pulled off his shirt. He caught the clinical way she looked him over as he did, her golden eyes taking in every bruise, every flinch. He felt suddenly self conscious as he realized how much weight and muscle tone he had lost through his ordeal. He didn’t consider himself a vain man, but he liked how he looked, or at least, he used to. He felt a sudden rush of anxiety as hateful, cruel thoughts told him that she would look at his skinny, bruised body and come to her senses.   


“Fenris?”  


He realized he had frozen with his shirt clutched in front of himself. “I am not in the shape I was,” he said apologetically. _She knows_ , the rational part of his brain reminded him. _She’s been healing you for days._ There were whispers from the shadowy parts of his mind. _She’s a good healer. She’s just seen enough of you to hide her disgust now._  


“You’ve been through an ordeal,” she said. “It’s a testament to your resilience that you’re as mobile as you are.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “In a few days you could probably start stretching and doing some easy sword forms again, if you wanted. I’m sure it’d help you feel better.”  


Despite her kind words, he found himself unable to set the shirt down. He didn’t want her to get more of a view of his pathetic, broken body. Danarius had _broken_ him. He had allowed himself to believe that she and Varric would betray him. He had almost allowed the magister to use his body for his pleasure and-  


“Fenris?” Her quiet, calm voice snapped him back to the present and he opened his eyes. He began to pull his shirt back over his head.  


“You have already done so much for me,” he said and though it was true, he knew that it was an excuse. He grunted with pain as his collarbone protested moving his arms above his head, panic suddenly filling him. He didn’t want to be shirtless where she could see how broken and pathetic and emaciated he was.  


_Naked. Oiled. Ready. Pliant property. The Little Wolf. Master’s Little Wolf._  


“Let me help,” she said gently. She pulled the shirt over his head and helped him get his arms into the sleeves. He still felt naked and clutched at the coverlet, pulling it around himself. He realized he was breathing hard and felt a bolt of sadness and rage shoot through him. He just wanted things to be as they had been before he had broken her heart. Before he had been taken away. He craved the easy intimacy they had shared, but as he looked down at his hands that shook like an old man’s, he feared that he would never again be able to have that.  


“Fenris? Please talk to me,” she said quietly.  


He took a deep breath. This was Hawke. His Saoirse. He knew that there was nothing he could not tell her. “How could you possibly want me again?” he asked softly. “When I am so...weak.”  


“You aren’t,” she said immediately. Her wolf’s eyes found his and held them. “Physically or emotionally. You’re _healing_ , Fenris.” She cocked her head looking for all the world like a predator who had spotted something it wished to pounce on. She lifted her chin and took his hands. “Do you remember the first time I tried to get up after my battle with the Arishok? After Anders had healed me and you and Varric had spent days caring for me? Do you remember what happened the first time my feet touched the floor?”  


“You fell,” he said. “Of course I remember, I thought that my heart was going to stop. The way you screamed-” he shuddered. “I was frightened.”  


“Did you think less of me for screaming?”  


He blinked. “What? No, of course not.”  


“Did you think less of me for crying from the pain? Or for how badly I shook the next time I tried because I was scared it would happen again?”  


“No,” he said firmly.  


“Why?” she asked.  


“Because you were recovering from a devastating injury,” he said and closed his eyes. He must have still been exhausted for it to take her point that long to sink in. “Your point is made,” he said.  


“I understand,” she said gently. “Truly.” She squeezed his hand and brought it to her lips softly. “I promise you, Fenris, I could never think less of you for needing time and space to heal.” she said. “And for what it’s worth,” her smile turned a little mischievous, “you don’t have to worry about me still wanting you, I promise.” He knew from the little furrow between her brows that she was still worried, but trying to make him smile, and so he did. Her expression grew serious.  


“Fenris...right now I am just so fucking thankful that you are here. I’ve been talking to the Maker rather a lot more than usual telling him just how thankful.” She glanced at him from under her eyelashes and gave a little chuckle, though a couple tears had begun to track down her face. “Maybe I should join the chantry, pledge my abstinence, dedicate my life to a prayer and thanksgiving.”  


He heard himself snort and realized that he had begun to laugh. The thought was almost as absurd as Varric becoming a chantry brother. “That would be a waste,” he said.  


She raised an eyebrow, grinning through her tears. “Think so?”  


“There are few things of which I am more certain,” he replied dryly. “They would not appreciate your sense of humor or-” he swallowed hard. He wanted to say something to show her that he still wanted her too, even if he wasn’t able to act on it yet. “Or how you look naked.”  


She blushed furiously and squeezed his hands. Her lips quirked up into a smile. “I’m pretty sure that’s blasphemy,” she teased softly.   


He shrugged a shoulder and winced as it set off another spasm.  


“Please lie down,” she said, worry written all over her face. “You still need to rest. If nothing else, I can do some Healing.” She gazed into his eyes with intensity. “Please, let me take care of you.”  


“Is that not what you were doing?” he replied, hoping to make her smile. He hated how worried she was about him, even as he loved her for it. He just wanted her to be happy.  


“Don’t sass me,” she teased, rising to his remark as she always did. “I’m the sassy one.”  


“I think Varric would disagree,” he retorted.  


“He would also tell you to listen to me,” Hawke replied. “Please?”  


Fenris did as she asked, stretching out on his belly with his head pillowed by his arms. He felt her scoot next to him on the bed. “Is it all right if I touch you?” she asked softly. “I could even rub your back if you don’t mind me pushing the back of your shirt up a little.”  


He swallowed hard and then nodded. It was such a little thing that she was asking of him. Surely he could do that much. Still, he felt the tension in his body as she began to push the bottom hem of his shirt up-  


_-Just as Danarius had in the Hanged Man when he had sold himself back to his former master. Just as he had when he kissed him. Just as he-_  


“Let’s just do it like this,” Hawke said, her voice pulling him away from the dark shadows in his mind. He felt his shirt slide back down over his skin and then she tucked it under his hips, pulling it taught. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, to see the disappointment that he was so broken that he couldn’t even handle the simple gift she was trying to give him.  


She placed both of her hands flat on his back on top of his shirt. “Is this all right?”  


“Yes,” he said, grateful to find that with the fabric in the way, it was.  


He heard her take a wavering breath and he knew without looking that there were tears on her cheeks because he’d hurt her. He always ended up hurting her.  


“Fenris, is it all right if I use a little healing magic? Just to help things along.”  


“I trust you,” he said because it was true and because he needed her to know that it wasn’t her fault that he wasn’t what he had once been.  


She squeezed his upper arm gently and then got to work. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. He had never been on the receiving end of such attentions and the massages he had given Danarius were always more of a precursor to the other things that the magister wanted. But the second Hawke’s strong, warm hands began to knead his exhausted muscles, Fenris heard himself _moan._   


Her hands seemed to instinctively search out all of the most terribly snarled places and the gentle thrum of her healing magic trickled in even deeper than her skilled fingers reached. She started up at his neck and slowly worked her way down, taking her time. He heard himself whimpering occasionally, gasping when she found a particularly tight knot, and at every sound he made she hesitated and checked in to be sure he was all right. He urged her on every time, hungry for the warmth of her touch. He didn’t even realize that he was crying until he felt her hands still.  


“Fenris?”  


He pushed himself up on his elbows, marveling at how much easier it was. He realized with a start that it had gotten dark outside. She must have been working on him for hours. “Please come here,” he said, reaching out to her. She took his hand and lay down next to him, letting him wrap his arms around her. The tears still streamed down his face and he wasn’t sure how to explain to her why. How could such gentle touches make him feel so much stronger? It didn’t make any sense.  


“Did I hurt you?” she asked worriedly.  


“The opposite,” he managed to say. He felt strong enough to kiss her again, before leaning his forehead against hers. “Thank you,” he said after a few moments. “Truly.”  


“It was my pleasure,” she replied, her golden eyes seeking his out. Her lips curled into a smile. “Truly.”  


He was about to say something else when there was a knock on the door.   


“Hawke? Fenris? Can you get the door?” Varric called.  


Hawke jumped up and opened the door and they both smiled at Varric when he walked in carrying a heavily laden tray.  


“How are you feeling, Fenris?” Varric asked, setting the tray down on the side table and ladeling some broth into a bowl.   


“Able to feed myself today, at least,” Fenris said, accepting the bowl from the dwarf.   


“Oh yeah?” Varric said, raising a bushy eyebrow. He handed Fenris a spoon. “Let’s see.”  


Fenris dipped his spoon into the broth and brought it to his lips without incident and Varric grinned at him. “Atta boy,” the dwarf said with gentle good humor before fixing plates for himself and Hawke. The three of them sat together on the bed enjoying their meal. Fenris was a little jealous of the chunks of tender meat and potatoes he saw in Hawke and Varric’s stew, but he knew the wisdom of keeping his own meals light for now. Still, the roll that Hawke gave him was a welcome addition and he used it to soak up the last of his second bowl of broth. Hawke took his bowl and he leaned back against the pillows with a contented sigh.   


Hawke smiled at him and then let out a long yawn that she tried to hide behind her hand.  


“I saw that,” Varric said.   


“I’m fine,” she replied.   


“Has she been here all day, elf?” Varric asked, glancing over at Fenris.   


Though he was at loathe to see Hawke go, Fenris knew that she was exhausted. She had been with him all day, and using her magic without a staff for at least a few hours. She needed to rest. “She has,” he said with an apologetic smile at Hawke.   


“Traitor,” she retorted, wrinkling her nose at him. There was no venom in her tone, however.   


“Orana was drawing you a bath when I came up here,” Varric said and Fenris felt a pang. A bath sounded so good. A part of him worried that he’d never again feel clean, but that would certainly be a good start.   


Hawke was watching him, as always. “Tomorrow,” she said softly. “Or the next day. When you’re a little more steady.”  


He blushed. “I am not accustomed to being so transparent,” he said wryly.  


She grinned and gave a little shrug. “I’m afraid you’re an open book to me,” she said. “Both of you.”  


Varric snorted. “That's what you think," he said. His gray eyes grew serious. “Speaking of being transparent...You need to rest, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I’ll stay with the elf. Keep him out of trouble.”  


“All right,” she said quietly and it was a testament to how exhausted she must have been that she didn’t argue more. “Wake me up if you need anything, promise?”  


“We promise,” Varric said. “Now go, before your bath gets cold.”  


Hawke gave Varric a hug around the shoulders and a kiss on the cheek before turning to Fenris. He reached for her and clasped her to himself tightly. “Thank you,” he said quietly, though he didn’t care if Varric heard. “You are wonderful.”  


“I’m just me,” she said.   


“That is all I have ever wanted,” he replied. He kissed her cheek and heard Varric chuckle.  


“Oh very smooth,” Varric said and Hawke straightened with a laugh and gave the dwarf a playful nudge.   


“Too saccharine for a dwarf with no whisky,” she said holding up her hands. “I know, I know.” She grinned at both of them. “Stay out of trouble,” she said with mock severity. “I love you both.”  


“Love you too, sweetheart,” Varric said. He leaned back in his chair, kicked off his boots, and swung his legs up onto the bed.  


“Always,” Fenris added. “Now please go and rest. You look so tired.”  


She nodded. “Goodnight,” she said and Fenris would have been lying if he said there wasn’t a pang when she left. He turned to Varric.  


“Varric?”  


“Hmm?” Varric said. He’d produced parchment and a quill from somewhere and was already busily writing.   


“Thank you,” Fenris said.   


The scratching stopped and Varric looked at him, his face unusually serious. “You don’t have to-”  


“I do,” Fenris interrupted. “It matters to me to say it. Thank you for all you have done. For your part in my rescue.” He held up Varric’s necklace, still wrapped around his wrist. “For lending me an anchor. For feeding me, like a child. For caring for me when I can offer so little in return.” His throat felt tight.   


“You’re my friend, Fenris,” Varric said as though that could possibly encompass all of it. As though it were just so simple.   


“Yes, but-”  


“No,” Varric stopped him gently, but firmly. “We aren’t going to do the whole ‘I’m not worthy’ thing, Fenris. You’re. My. Friend. You have been for years. I’ve spilled blood with you. I’ve broken bread with you. I have washed your vomit off my floor.” His voice grew gravelly. “I watched you _sell yourself back into slavery to save my life_.” He shook his head. “A little broth and some company...I think I got the better deal.” He took a deep breath. “All right?” He handed Fenris a handkerchief and Fenris wiped away the tears that had started to fall. Varric’s necklace caught the light from its place wrapped around his wrist and the dwarf gave him a lopsided smile.  


“All right,” Fenris said, returning the smile as best he could.   


“Good,” Varric said with a nod. He brushed at his eyes with the back of his hand and then fixed Fenris with a look. “How are you doing? Now that Hawke is gone.”  


“I am...mending,” Fenris said.   


“Mending is good,” Varric said. “Are you feeling less like you might wake up at any second?”   


Fenris nodded. “Most of the time. There are...moments.” He flinched, thinking of earlier.  


Varric’s expression was sympathetic. “I can only imagine,” he said kindly. “But those will fade over time. Just don’t hesitate to tell us if you are struggling, ok? We can’t help if we don’t know.”  


“You have both already done so much,” Fenris said softly. “How could I ask for more?”  


“Because I damn well told you to,” Varric said and though his expression was gentle, there was fierceness in his eyes.   


Fenris smiled at him, touched more deeply than he could say. “All right,” he said.  


Varric smiled back and the two of them settled in, chatting. Though Fenris felt like all he had done lately was sleep, he found himself nodding after awhile.   


“Time for bed, Broody,” Varric said, catching him yawning again.  


Fenris was too tired to argue. He nestled down under the covers with a sigh. He was home and he was safe and so were the people he treasured most. “Thank you, Varric,” he said, his voice already getting heavy.  


He heard the smile in Varric’s voice. “Anytime, Fenris.” It sounded like he said something else, but it was lost as sleep pulled him under.


	24. Cleansed and Cherished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris continues his recovery.

The sun was shining again the next time Fenris woke up from what had been a mercifully long and dreamless sleep.   


“Good morning,” Hawke said from his left. She chuckled. “Or rather, Good afternoon.”  


He looked over and marveled for a moment at how the sunlight made her dark skin glow. She was sitting with her legs up on the bed and a book in her lap and her full lips were curled into a smile. 

“Good afternoon, Saoirse,” he said. “Varric?”  


“I sent him to bed a couple hours ago,” she said. “We’re trading off. He insisted on the night shift so that…” she blushed very prettily. “So that we could be together when you are awake,” she said.   


Fenris felt a profound surge of affection for their friend. “That was kind of him,” he said.   


She nodded and set the book on the bedside table, letting her legs drop so that she could lean forward to take his hand. “How do you feel?”  


“Better,” he said and meant it. “My head is clearer. I do not ache so much.” He smiled at her. “Largely due to your ministrations yesterday, I am certain.” His stomach rumbled, making them both laugh. “It would appear I am hungry, as well.”  


“Good thing I had Orana bring up a tray,” Hawke said. She rose and went to the sideboard, returning with a heavy wooden tray. On it there was a bowl of porridge, a lean slice of ham, and a steaming mug of tea. “Ready to try some solids?” she asked.  


“Yes,” he managed to say despite how his mouth was watering. Hawke placed the tray in his lap and sat watching him as he tucked into the meal. He wanted to devour it, but he knew better. He forced himself to take small bites, alternating them with sips of tea and water. It took easily three times as long to finish the meal as it normally would have, but when he was done he felt pleasantly full and not ill. He leaned back against the pillows with a contented sigh. He felt weight on the bed next to him and cracked an eye open to see that Hawke had crawled up next to him. He leaned against her shoulder, closing his eyes again, but to his surprise, he didn’t feel sleepy. “Hawke?”  


“Mmm?”  


He sat up and took a deep breath. “I am feeling steadier today,” he said. “Do you think that I-I could bathe?”  


She brushed his hair away from his forehead. “As long as you’re feeling up to it,” she said with a smile. “Let me go and ask Orana to fill the tub.”  


She was back in a trice and she went to the wardrobe and pulled out a long dressing gown. “Here,” she said, laying it out on the bed. “I don’t want you to get a chill.”  


Fenris looked at it, feeling a weight sink in his belly. It was very different from the robe he’d worn to Danarius’ quarters, he told himself. Where that one had been a plain white linen (easier to clean bloodstains out that way), the one Hawke was offering was a heavy, soft fabric in rich burgundy. He’d worn it once or twice on nights they had come back from the Hanged Man and got caught in the rain.   


“You held on to it,” he said, stalling for time. This was something he had good memories of. Why did it make his stomach clench?  


“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You’re looking at it like it might bite you.”  


Fenris shook his head and reached for the robe, feeling its weight in his hands. It was so much softer than what he had worn aboard the Victory. And it smelled like Hawke’s house. And yet, his hands shook as he went to put his arm in the sleeve.  


_Well now don’t you look nice._   


He dropped the robe like a snake, taking a step back. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, bending down to retrieve it.  


“Leave it,” Hawke said gently, catching his elbow. “Try this instead.” She handed him a blanket made of a deep gray wool. She smiled at him, but it was a worried one. “It will be nice and cozy.”  


“Hawke-”  


“It’s ok,” she said, stepping closer and helping him wrap the blanket around his shoulders. “You don’t have to explain anything, love. Now how about that bath?”  


He nodded and followed her out of the guest suite and down to the bathing chamber. He let out a gasp when she opened the door for him. Hawke wasn’t one for many frivolous luxuries, but obviously this was one she had chosen to invest in. The room had been significantly upgraded since the last time he’d seen it. It had been expanded so that now it was easily twice the size of his room at his mansion, with a huge fireplace that one could have roasted an oxen in. The blazing fire in it ensured that the room would never be cold, and the absence of windows meant that there were no droughts. Lanterns blazed on the walls, providing plenty of illumination. The wooden ceiling that captured the lantern light and made the whole space feel warm and comforting. A fountain trickled in the corner, proving a soothing background noise. A folding screen separated the bathing area from another area with a counter top and a chair.  


In the center of a room was the largest bathtub that Fenris had ever seen. It was made of copper polished to a shine with steep sides that would allow several people to sit upright and have water come up to their shoulders still. The water in it steamed and Fenris caught the scent of juniper. He looked back at Hawke, his eyes wide. “Hawke-”  


“You mentioned that the smell was one you associated with being clean,” she said quietly. “I thought it might...help.”  


He went to her and caught her in a hug, startling a squeak out of her. “I told you that years ago,” he said, shaking his head.  


She chuckled, hugging him back. “Everyone thinks that I don’t listen,” she said teasingly. “I really do, I promise.”  


“Evidently,” he said, resting his forehead against hers. “Thank you."  


She tilted her face up, her eyes searching his. “Of course,” she said with such fervor that he couldn’t have doubted her if he wanted to. “Now,” she said briskly. “How can I help?”  


Fenris blushed. “Don’t let me fall in?” he half-joked.   


Hawke grinned at him. “I can do that,” she said. She followed him over to the tub and accepted the heavy blanket from him, draping it over a stand that held several fluffy towels. Fenris hesitated, the same fears from yesterday clamoring for attention in his mind. Hawke turned her back to him but held out her arm. “Just grab on to me to steady yourself if you need to,” she said quietly. “I won’t look, I promise.”  


His throat constricted at her consideration. How did she always know? Quickly he stripped down naked except for Varric’s necklace wrapped around his wrist. He grasped her arm, lifting one leg over the high side of the tub. He hissed at the heat of the water, but it felt incredible. He was quick to climb the rest of the way in and sank down into the water with a contented sigh. Hawke walked over and opened the folding screen. “I’m just going to sit back here,” she said. “So you don’t have to be self-conscious. I just don’t want to leave you alone.”  


“Thank you, Hawke,” Fenris said.   


“Enjoy, love,” Hawke said and he could hear the smile on her face.   


She didn’t have to tell him twice. Fenris picked up a thick, soft washcloth and selected one of the little jars that sat on a shelf that was cleverly hung off of the tub. He opened it and took an exploratory sniff. It smelled of sandalwood and he felt another little glow of appreciation. The soap that he always used was that scent. He suspected it was another gesture on Hawke’s part to make him feel safe and grounded. He scrubbed himself from head to toe twice, noting that the water had not changed color dramatically. It spoke to how clean Hawke and Varric had kept him during his convalescence. The only thing left to clean was his hair, but there he suddenly ran up against a barrier. Try as he might, he could not convince himself to put his head under the water. Every time he tried his lungs filled with salt and cold and burning and on his third try he slapped the side of the tub. “Fasta vass!”  


He heard the chair behind the screen scrape. “Fenris?”  


“I just want to clean my hair,” he said and he could hear how miserable he sounded.   


“Can I come around?” Hawke asked. “I might be able to help.”  


Fenris took a deep breath.  


“I won’t peek,” Hawke added.  


Despite himself, Fenris chuckled. “Yes, please.”  


She appeared and there was determination on her face. “I have an idea,” she said. She went to where the ewer sat in the washbasin and rested her hand against it for a moment. A little tendril of steam crept up and Hawke nodded to herself before picking it up. “Would you rest your head on the back of the tub?” she asked. “If you sit up you should be able to tilt your head backwards. Then we can pour a little water on to get your hair wet.”  


Fenris swallowed hard and shook his head. “I can’t, Hawke,” he rasped. “The pitcher...that was how Livius…”  


Hawke put the ewer down immediately. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Fenris.”  


“You couldn’t have known,” he said miserably.  


“I have another idea,” she said softly. “But I don’t know if it’s better or worse.”  


“All right,” Fenris said.   


“What if I sat behind you?” she asked. “Like when we used to read? I could use a little cup like this one and we could just do a little water at a time.”  


Fenris was staring up at her. “That all...sounds like a lot of work for you,” he said.  


She shrugged. “We have time,” she said gently teasing. “Orana is changing your sheets and tidying your room.” Her expression was a kind one. “Does that sound like it would work?”  


He swallowed hard. “I do not think that I am ready to be naked together,” he said, hating that it was true.  


“I know, love,” she said. “I was thinking I’d keep my clothes on.”  


He blinked up at her. “But...your clothes-”  


“They’ll dry,” she said. Her eyes searched his. “Would you be up for trying that?”  


The thought of being fully clean again was a powerful enough one that he found himself nodding and moving forward in the tub. In a moment her body was there behind him, and with her clothes separating their skin it was solid and reassuring. He leaned back against her at her gentle urging and rested his head on her shoulder.   


“How’s this?” her breath ghosted against the side of his face smelling vaguely of mint and tea.   


He turned to look at her and gave her a smile that wobbled. “It feels a little strange,” he said softly. “But mostly it feels...familiar.”  


She rubbed her nose against his with a smile. “I’m glad,” she said.  


He took a deep breath. “All right,” he said. “I am ready.”  


“This is what I’m going to use,” she said.   


He opened his eyes and saw the tiny mortar that had been on the shelf of soaps. He glanced over his shoulder. “Hawke, that will take you forever,” he said.   


She raised an eyebrow. “Did you have a previous engagement I was unaware of?”  


“No, but-”  


“It’s my time, love, let me choose how to spend it.”  


What could he possibly say to that?  


“Ready?” she asked.  


“I am,” he said quietly.  


“Stop me if it gets to be too much,” she said. “Ok?”  


“I will,” he promised.   


He felt the first drops of water hit his scalp and immediately tensed, gripping her knee.   


“Shhhh,” she murmured, stroking through his hair with her other hand. “I’ve got you,” she said. “Do you want me to stop?”  


He shook his head. He wanted to be clean. He wanted to wash the last traces of his captivity off of himself--whatever it took. “I am all right,” he said.   


“Ok,” she said. “Tell me if that changes.” She poured another cup and another and another, not stopping until his hair had been thoroughly wetted. “How are you doing?” she asked.  


“It is...better than I expected,” he replied honestly. He was still gripping her knees, but he’d stopped shaking at least. She had been so careful that none of the water had so much as touched his face.   


“I’m glad,” she said and when he glanced at her he saw the smile on her face.   


He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Already it feels better,” he said, looking into her eyes.   


Her eyes were shiny when she smiled at him this time. She took a shuddering breath and he realized that for all of her matter-of-factness, she was nervous. He knew in his heart it was because she was worried about hurting him and he found himself once again filled with gratitude for her.  


“What shall I wash your hair with?” she asked.  


He nodded to the little bottle of sandalwood scented soap and she poured a little into her hands and rubbed them together. “This part might work better if you sit up,” she said.   


He took a deep breath and did as she asked, resting his arms on his knees. He let out a soft moan of pure pleasure when her clever fingers threaded their way into his hair the way she always used to when they read. He could feel her nails along his scalp and the gentle warmth that always emanated off of her hands. She took her time, tending to him with a healers thoroughness, and Fenris felt tears begin to trickle down his face to drip into the bath water.   


“Shhhh,” she murmured, one of her hands sliding down from his scalp to massage the base of his skull. He groaned at the touch and tilted his head back. “I’ve got you, love,” she said. “If you’re ready, lean back and I’ll rinse your hair off. I don’t want you to get soap in your eyes.”  


He collapsed back against her and once more felt his hair grow damper, cupful by tiny cupful. His hands on her knees had finally started to relax when he felt her nod. “Ok,” she said brightly. “I think that we’ve got it.” She brushed her lips against his cheek. “You smell clean to me,” she said with a teasing lilt to her words.   


Fenris blinked and brought a hand to his hair. It squeaked against his palm and he heard himself sob with relief. He was clean, he was finally clean. He turned and buried his face in Hawke’s neck, desperately grasping for her hands. He found them and clasped them tightly, feeling himself begin to shake.   


“It’s ok, love,” she murmured, kissing his forehead. “It’s all right. You’re clean, you’re all clean and no one is going to take you from here ever again.”  


He wasn’t sure how long he sat there trembling in her arms before he finally began to feel a little bit more steady. The water had begun to cool around them and he knew that he should get back to bed.   


“Let me stand first,” Hawke said. “So I can steady you.”  


He nodded, unable to bring himself to speak. How could he possibly say everything he needed to say to her? He leaned forward and felt her comforting heat disappear as she rose. There was the sound of water falling and then a soft curse from Hawke about the slippery floor. He heard her footsteps slap away from him and then return. “Here you go, love,” she said.  


He opened his eyes and she was standing by the tub holding a massive thick towel. She helped him stand, her eyes never leaving his, and wrapped him up in the towel before draping the heavy woolen blanket over his shoulders so that he was covered from head to toe. “Give me just a second to take these off,” she said. “I don’t want to make a bunch more work for Orana.”  


He nodded and she hurried behind the screen where he heard the sound of wet garments hitting the flagstone. She appeared a moment later wrapped in another big towel. “Come on you,” she said with a grin. “Let’s get you back to bed.”  


He let her lead him up the stairs and to his room where she paused at the door. “Did you need help?” she asked, looking concerned. “Would you be comfortable with me helping? I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”  


He smiled at her and managed to reach through his cocoon of towels and blankets to cup her cheek. “I will be fine, Hawke,” he said. “I promise. Go and get dry before you catch a cold.”  


“That’s a myth you know,” she said with a grin. “But all right. I’ll be back in two shakes.” She kissed his cheek and then hurried off towards her room. Fenris couldn’t help but notice the way the towel hugged her curves, and he caught himself smiling, feeling a little more like himself.  


Orana had been and gone in the time they had been in the bathing chamber and as Fenris looked around he realized that his bath had taken quite a bit longer than he’d thought. The sun was beginning to set and there was a covered tray on the sideboard where the tempting smell of mutton was wafting up. Fresh clothes lay across the newly made bed and Fenris slipped into them, letting out a blissful sigh as the unbelievably soft fabric whispered across his skin. He helped himself to some mutton that was so tender it fell off of the bone and some of the roasted potatoes that Orana had brought along with it. He kept his portion small and curled up on the chair that had been moved back over by the fireplace. It felt good to be clean and sitting somewhere other than bed. He heard a soft knock at the door just after he had popped a potato in his mouth.  


“Come in!” he said with his mouth full.  


Hawke entered, dressed in a soft red shirt that fell just slightly off one of her shoulders and a pair of dark gray pants. Her feet were bare and her hair had been wrapped up in the silk scarf she wore to bed.   


“Good, you’re eating,” she said with a little smile. “How’s the mutton?”  


“Delicious,” Fenris said. “Won’t you join me?”  


She inclined her head and went to the sideboard, fixing herself a plate before joining him in front of the fire. They ate in companionable silence until Fenris knew it was time for him to stop before he got sick. He leaned his head back against the chair with a contented sigh.   


“How are you doing?” Hawke asked, rising and taking his plate and putting it with hers on the tray. She set the tray outside the door before returning to her chair.   


“Hawke…” Fenris swallowed hard. “I do not have words to tell you how much I appreciate all that you have done. That you spent so long just to wash my hair I-” he shook his head. “Thank you.”  


“You would do the same for me,” she said. “You have, point of fact.” She shrugged her shoulder and the shirt fell slightly down her arm, revealing the tops of her breasts. “I just wanted to help,” she said, pulling it back into place.  


Fenris realized that he’d been watching her rather too closely when it took him an extra second to respond. “You did,” he hurried to say, looking up into her eyes. He saw the slight quirk of her eyebrow and realized that she’d caught him looking. He blushed. “You always look so lovely in red,” he said.  


“Shirt’s a little big,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t really look. Just grabbed what was closest.”  


“I do not mind,” Fenris said, giving her a shy, teasing smile.  


“I’ll just bet,” she said wryly. She looked like she was about to say something else when he surprised them both with a big yawn.  


Hawke chuckled and rose, offering him her hand. “Come on, let’s get you to bed before you fall asleep in the chair.”  


“Will you join me?” he asked, then blushed to his ears when he realized how it sounded.  


Hawke squeezed his hand and nodded.  


Fenris followed her to the bed and sighed with pleasure as he slid under the clean sheets. It was amazing to him that something as simple as being clean in a clean bed had such a profound impact on his state of mind. He felt like a person again, not a slave, or a frightened captive, or an invalid. He felt almost like himself, just with some extra shadows lurking around the edges. But as he felt Hawke snuggle against him he had to wonder if even the darkest shadows could survive continued exposure to her light. He wrapped his arms around her and tilted her face up so that she was looking at him.  


“Thank you,” he said.  


She gave a little shake of her head, but he caught her chin.   


“I mean it,” he said, brushing his thumb over her full lips. “Thank you, Saoirse, for everything. I am beginning to feel like a man once again, rather than a wounded, frightened animal.”  


She rubbed her nose against his and made a happy little sound when he kissed her. He could feel his body stirring with her proximity and the lovely sight of the bare skin of her shoulder. He wanted to see more of her, to feel more of her, and the desire hit him in a wave so sudden that it almost took his breath away.  


He must have gasped or something, because Hawke pulled back just slightly and looked into his eyes, worried. “What is it?”  


“You,” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers and hugging her tightly. “You, Hawke, it has always been you.” He kissed her lips, her cheeks, her forehead until she was giggling breathlessly, stroking her fingers through his hair. He smiled back at her and kissed her more deeply, his hand behind her head and his other in the small of her back. He took a breath and let it out slowly before meeting her eyes. He looked at her for a long moment. “I hope that you know how dear you are to me,” he said. “I hope that you know that I-I am yours, Hawke. In every way. I am sorry that I haven’t been able to show you fully yet, but please do not doubt that I want to.”  


Hawke kissed him gently. “Oh Fenris,” she whispered. “Please don’t worry about that.”  


He snorted softly. “Worry is perhaps not the right word,” he teased, earning a quiet laugh from Hawke. He grew serious. “I just...I do not want you to doubt how I feel about you, Saoirse. And it would not be fair of me to make you wait forever.”  


“Stop,” she said, bringing her hand up to caress his face. “You are worrying, if you’re saying that to me.” She shook her head. “Fenris, you’ve barely been home two weeks after putting yourself through hell to protect me and Varric.” She scooted closer to him, and he took hold of her thigh, pulling it up over his hip so that she could be as close as possible. “That is no time at all, love.” She looked into his eyes and he could see the tears that stood in hers. “You tell me that you’re mine,” she said with such feeling he felt a lump in his throat. “But sometimes I don’t think you realize that I’m just as much _yours_.”   


“Saoirse,” he rasped, clutching her to himself as hard as he could. The word came to his lips unbidden, but as soon as it did he knew that it fit. “Kadan.”  


She cocked her head, giving him the same look she had when he’d spoken in Tevene. “Kadan?”  


“My heart,” he whispered into her ear.   


“Fenris,” she breathed, her cheeks coloring. “You’re mine too,” she said. “My heart. Kadan.”  


He kissed her passionately then, and she made a quiet sound of pleasure and slid both of her hands into his hair, kissing him back with equal need.   


He spanned her back with one hand, tentatively reaching up with the other to touch the scarf around her hair. “May I take this off?” he asked. “I would like to touch your hair.”  


She smiled at him and nodded and he gently unwound the red silk. Her curls were the longest he’d ever seen them and he stroked his fingertips through them as she had so often for him. “It’s long,” he said with wonder. “I have never seen it this long.”  


She laughed quietly. “I haven’t really taken the time to do much with it,” she said with a shrug. “I had other things on my mind. It’s gotta go soon though,” she pulled a face. “It’s a pain in the ass, especially since it’s getting warm.” She gave him a shy smile. “I’m glad you like it, though.”  


“You are so beautiful,” he said softly and she blushed. A thought occurred to him and he leaned in, putting his lips by her ear. “I will never understand how I landed such a looker.”  


She giggled at hearing her words from years ago repeated back to her. The sound brought back nights reading and mornings sparring and rounds of Wicked Grace and he was suddenly so fully _home_ that it took his breath away. She took his face in her hands and her eyes were once again glistening. “The bait was very tempting you understand,” she replied. Her thumbs brushed over his cheeks. “Can I kiss you?”  


“Please,” he replied, hugging her to him.  


Her kiss was a gentle one, the barest brushing of her lips against his and something about the softness of it ignited a need in him that he’d been terrified would be broken forever. He clutched at her so hard that he would later be worried that he’d left bruises, crushing his lips to hers as a sob escaped him. She let him take control of the kiss, parting her lips to receive him when he caressed her with his tongue. He wanted her, he needed her, he needed to taste her and feel her and take her and remind himself that he was a man and not a beast and that she was his and-  


He pulled back abruptly, breathing hard. It was just like the night he’d had the nightmare about Danarius’ hands in his hair. He couldn’t use her to heal the broken pieces. It wasn’t fair to her.  


She was breathing hard as well as she rubbed her nose against his. “You’re still healing,” she murmured. “We have all the time in the world, love. There’s no rush.”  


He leaned in and brushed his lips over the scar on her throat. It was vivid proof of the fact that she could be taken from him at any moment. “I almost lost you,” he said against her neck, giving the scar another kiss and feeling her pulse beating sure and strong underneath it. “Saoirse, I almost lost you and I am so afraid of wasting any more time. I wasted years being afraid. I just want things to be as they were.”  


“I know,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I know, love, and so do I. But we won’t do ourselves any good by rushing things.”  


“We might do ourselves some good,” he grumbled against her neck, earning a breathless laugh from her. He pulled back and smiled at her, cupping her cheek. He wished he had the words to explain to her how the sound of her laughter filled the frightened, dark places in his heart with light for a moment and made him feel like things would eventually be all right.  


“You don’t mean that,” she said softly. “Not yet, anyway.” She leaned into his hand. “I’m here, Fenris,” she said, “I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got me.” She smiled at him, and pulled back just slightly. “Now you should rest, though.”  


“I feel fine,” he growled, even though they both knew it wasn’t true. He could feel the tremors that had started to go through his body that told him that he had expended all the energy he had for the moment.  


“You can’t lie to the healer,” she said sternly, though there was a smile on her face. He let out an answering chuff of laughter and subsided, instead resting his head on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax as he breathed in the scent of her hair.  


“Very well,” he said. “You are correct, I suppose.”  


“Mmmm, I should have that put on a banner,” she replied. “I could hang it in the front hall.”   


“I would never admit to having said it,” he grumbled.  


“How like a man,” she teased.  


“Will you stay?” he asked her, stroking his hand up and down her side just to touch her.  


“Of course,” she replied, leaning her head against his. “For as long as you want me.”  


“Forever, Kadan,” he said, tilting his head up. His eyelids felt too heavy to open, but he could feel her smile against his lips when she kissed him gently.  


“I think I can do that,” she said, pulling the coverlet up over his shoulder and tightening her arms around him. “Sweet dreams, Kadan.”   


_No dream could be sweeter than this_ , he thought as, lulled by her breathing and the fruity scent of her hair, he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you all enjoyed the latest chapter! Things are going to continue being pretty fluffy for awhile. Soon there will even be smut! I wanted to let you all know that from here on out I'm going to do my best to consistently update on Mondays. My work schedule is going to pick up again in the next few weeks, which is going to slow down the writing/editing process some. I'd rather take time and give you guys something good rather than rush out updates, so I hope that you won't mind the slight increase in time between chapters. Thank you all so much for reading this far!


	25. Stretching Towards the Sun *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris has a restorative moment of vulnerability with Varric before Hawke surprises him with a few presents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING: Implied Sexual Assault/ Referenced Past Sexual Assault**

It was deep into the wee small hours of the morning when Fenris sat bolt upright in bed, startling Varric so badly that he almost dropped his quill and parchment. The elf was breathing hard, his eyes wild.   


“Fenris?”  


Fenris looked over at him, but his eyes were blank with terror, utterly unseeing.   


Varric set his things down and rose, approaching the bed. “Fenris, it’s Varric.”  


No response.  


Varric took a deep breath and gently placed his hand on Fenris’ shoulder. He was expecting to be struck or knocked down, but instead he felt a powerful shudder go through his friend. Fenris’ hand came up and grasped his wrist hard.  


“Varric?”  


“Yup. it’s me, Broody.”  


Fenris sagged back against the pillows, wrapping his hand tightly around Varric’s necklace, which was wound around his wrist. “Sorry, I’m sorry, Varric. I-I’m back.”  


“Nothing to be sorry for, Fenris,” Varric said. “Do you want to talk about it?”  


Fenris shrugged and Varric went around to sit on the bed with him. “It’s all right, Broody,” he said. “We can just sit here, talk about something else.”  


“Where’s Hawke?” Fenris asked.  


“I sent her to bed,” Varric said. “That ok?”  


Fenris nodded. “I want her to rest,” he said with a sweet smile, though his eyes still looked haunted. He leaned back against the pillows and glanced over at Varric. “You should too, Varric.”  


Varric shrugged, stretching his legs out in front of himself and crossing them at the ankles. “You seem like you’re on the mend, Broody,” he said. “I’ll probably start leaving you alone at night if you’re comfortable with it in a few days.” He smiled at his friend. “I just want to be sure you’re ok before I do.”  


“And you don’t want to leave the whole burden on Hawke.”  


Varric sighed and gave Fenris a look. “You aren’t a burden.”  


Fenris looked down at the necklace wrapped around his wrist. “I _feel_ like a burden.”  


“I need you to look at me,” Varric said firmly.   


Fenris did as he asked and Varric felt his heart breaking. The elf looked so miserable that Varric scooted closer to him on the bed and went to put his arm around his shoulder. Fenris flinched and inwardly Varric cursed himself. “Sorry,” Varric said, lowering his arm.   


Fenris shook his head and took a deep breath. He leaned his head on Varric’s shoulder and Varric felt his throat constrict as he gently rested his head on Fenris’.   


“Fenris, you aren’t a burden,” Varric said quietly. “I know you never would have called Hawke a burden when we were caring for her after the Arishok.”  


“She said something similar when she helped me with my first bath last week,” Fenris said.  


“Well there you go,” Varric said. “Great minds think alike.” He heard Fenris give a tired chuckle. “Fenris?”  


“Mmmm?”  


“I want to tell you something, and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.” He felt the elf tense a little bit against his side.  


“All right,” Fenris said, sounding resigned.  


“I told you so.”  


Fenris jerked back, looking up at Varric. “What-?”  


“The night you had the nightmare about you and Hawke’s children,” Varric continued, his voice quiet. “I told you that I’d trust you with my life. I told you that you would never betray us. And I was right.” He smiled down at his friend, hoping to lift some of the terrible tension he could see in his face. “So...I told you so. You owe me a drink.”  


Fenris was looking at him wide-eyed and for a moment, Varric worried that he’d overplayed his hand. But then the elf started to laugh. It was a little hysterical sounding and tears quickly started to run down his face, but he was laughing. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking, and Varric heard him start to sob.   


“Can I touch you?” Varric asked quietly.  


“Y-yes,” Fenris gritted out.   


Varric wrapped his arm around the elf’s shoulder and let him cry, murmuring quietly to him. He’d had a suspicion that Fenris had been keeping a tight rein on his emotions, not wanting to worry Hawke any more than she already was. But Varric had guessed that his friend needed a release and that he’d be unlikely to allow himself to break down like he needed in front of Hawke. Maker knew that in his private moments Varric had broken down more than once since their ordeal. Hawke had admitted the same to him. Hell, the two of them had cried together at least twice as their injuries healed.  


“We’re lucky to have you, Fenris,” Varric said. “You’re a good man. I couldn’t ask for a better friend. And I couldn’t ask for a better partner for Hawke.”  


Fenris turned towards him and Varric wrapped his arms around him, tugging his friend closer.   


“Let it go,” Varric said. “I’m not going anywhere.”  


The elf was shaking like a leaf and Varric tightened his arms just a little bit. He didn’t want to panic Fenris, but he wanted him to feel grounded and protected.   


He wasn’t sure how long they sat, but Fenris’ sobs eventually faded. He leaned against Varric, gripping the front of his shirt and breathing hard.   


“They almost had me convinced that you and Hawke sold me back,” Fenris confessed in a ragged whisper that spoke of the guilt he was clearly feeling. “It only took them days. _Days_ , Varric. How could I be so weak-willed?”  


“Days where you were put up in a nice stateroom, fed bon bons, and generally treated like an honored guest, right?” Varric asked. “I know you, Fenris. I can only imagine what it took to get you to that point.”  


Fenris exhaled sharply. “I was tortured,” he said simply. “Badly. Broken bones. Not allowed to sleep.” He shuddered hard. “Drowned. And I always knew that at the end of it...Danarius would use me as he willed, just as he always used to.” He wrapped his arms around himself. “I was ready to let him,” he said in a tiny voice. “Until he bade me to burn Hawke’s shield and scarf. I remembered then. I killed him before he could use me.” Fenris rushed to say the last part before dropping his chin to his chest and falling silent and Varric knew that it was as much about reassuring himself as telling him.  


Varric felt a surge of hate for the dead magister. He had gleaned from things Fenris had said in the past that their relationship had been something more sinister than bodyguard and master. But he’d never wanted to ask and force Fenris to relive it. But the way Danarius had behaved towards Fenris in the Hanged Man had removed any ambiguity on the matter. However Fenris had killed the magister, it surely had been more than the man deserved.  


Varric did his best to keep the thoughts out of his face and voice. “I would have cracked under less than half of that,” he said. “Especially if I knew them, like you did. You knew what they were capable of.” Varric cocked his head. And _he_ knew his friend. He had a good guess as to another way his captors had been able to get to him. “I bet it was less painful to think we’d betrayed you than that you’d failed us somehow,” he said, watching Fenris closely. “No wonder your brain was ready to accept it. If we betrayed you, you weren’t ‘responsible’ for our deaths.” He raised an eyebrow. “Am I getting warm?”  


Fenris had his eyes clenched shut and he was breathing very rapidly. “Yes,” he said. “Anything was better than knowing that you had died because of me.”  


“But we’re here,” Varric said. “We made it. All of us.”  


“We did,” Fenris said, nodding to himself.   


“And no one will _ever_ hurt you like that again,” Varric said fiercely. He took a deep breath and then spoke the words that had lingered in his heart since the terrible night at the Hanged Man. “Fenris, I’m sorry that we weren’t able to protect you.”  


“It was not your fault,” Fenris said, shaking his head. “I should have listened to Hawke. I let fear cloud my judgment.” He shook his hair out of his eyes. “It almost cost me both of you. It is not a mistake I will make again.”  


The two of them lapsed into silence for a few minutes.  


“You are stronger than you know, Fenris,” Varric said quietly. “We’re lucky to have you.”  


“As I am the two of you,” Fenris said, his voice soft and exhausted. “Varric, I think that I might fall asleep again.”  


“Good, Broody,” Varric said. He pulled the covers up once Fenris lay down.   


“Can you keep Hawke out for a little while in the morning?” Fenris asked in a voice barely over a whisper.   


“Of course,” Varric said.   


“I want to...stretch,” Fenris said.  


“Shhhhhhhh,” Varric murmured. “Sleep well, Broody.” But Fenris was already snoring. 

****

The sun had just begun to fill the room with light when Fenris woke to the sound of a deep snore next to him. He rolled over and looked at Varric, who had fallen asleep writing. The lines that had furrowed Varric’s forehead the night before had faded in his rest and Fenris had to smile. His breakdown the night before had unknotted something inside of him and he was feeling a little bit more like himself. He eased himself off the bed, but Varric shifted and opened his eyes.   


“Morning, elf,” Varric said with a yawn.  


“Morning, dwarf,” Fenris replied.  


Varric chuckled and slid off the bed, picking up his papers and quill and shoving them into the worn leather binding he used to carry them around. “How are you feeling?”   


Fenris stood up straight and rolled his shoulders back. “Better,” he said and meant it.   


Varric’s answering smile was warm. “Still want me to keep our girl out?”  


“Please,” Fenris said with determination. He wanted to stretch and begin to work on finding the strength in his body once more. “I need only an hour, I doubt I will be able to do more than that.”  


Varric nodded. “Just don’t overdo it, Broody,” he said. “Or Hawke will light me on fire.”  


Fenris laughed and the sound felt the most...natural that it had. “You have my word.”  


Varric grinned and him and hurried away, shutting the door behind himself.  


Fenris took a deep breath and walked over to the open space by the window. The early morning light had created a pool of gold on the floor. Fenris went and stood in it, feeling the warmth on his bare feet. He’d hugged Hawke for the first time following captivity in this spot. It felt like a good place to start.  


He closed his eyes and spent a few moments simply grounding himself. He focused on his breathing, on the way the warm floorboards felt on his feet, on the places where his muscles still were tense or tired. Then he began to move.  


He chose to start with a series of stretches that he had learned from the Fog Warriors that were intended to connect his body with his mind. It was nothing too strenuous, but he was gratified to feel that the old exercises came back to him naturally. He went through "Greet the Sun", the morning routine that Ayara had taught him, focusing on positioning his body correctly and holding the poses for a ten count to give his muscles time to adjust. He was breathing a little hard by the time he was done, but he felt well enough to try one of the simplest sword forms that he had learned at the start of his training. He felt a little bit foolish going through the motions without a blade of any kind, but it felt amazing to reclaim that portion of control over his body. He had sat down on the floor with his hands on his knees when there was a soft knock on the door.   


“Fenris?”  


He smiled and remained in the pool of sunlight. “Come in, Hawke.”  


He heard the door open and shut and the sound of her footfalls approaching. There was the distinct sound of a tray being set down. “Breakfast?”  


He opened his eyes and looked at her. She was wearing her outfit from the night before, and the shirt falling off her shoulder was every bit as tempting as it had been. Moreso even now that he was feeling a little more like himself. He rose, pleased when he did that it wasn’t as hard as it had been.   


“Should I be worried that you had Varric stall me?” she asked with a little smile.   


He chuckled. “It was nothing nefarious, I assure you,” he said, approaching her and reaching out for her hands. “I was stretching." 

“I think it’s a great idea,” she said, taking a little step back. There was a mysterious smile on her face that made his heart begin to beat faster. “I brought you a present,” she said. “And I can’t wait to give it to you anymore.”  


_You have already given me so much,_ he thought. _What more could I ask for?_  


She pulled her hands from behind her back, holding out a little wooden box. “It’s nothing fancy,” she said, her cheeks turning pink. “Just...something I thought you might like.”  


He took it from her with hands that shook and opened the top. Inside there was a red silk scarf.  


“You should unwind it,” she said softly.   


He put the box on the sideboard and pulled out the scarf, catching a whiff of her hair as he did so. He felt his throat going tight as he began to unwind the silk and when he finished he couldn’t help but gasp. 

It was her coat of arms.   


His hands shook as he wound the scarf around his wrist and she reached out and tenderly helped him tie it in place. She gestured at the linen pants he had worn to bed. “I’m pretty sure if we put the shield on those they’ll just fall down.”  


He brought the coat of arms to his lips and then set it down on the mantle before grabbing her and pulling her to him hard. He looked into her eyes, cupping her cheek as he struggled to find words.   


“Thank you,” he finally managed to rasp and it felt inadequate, but at least it was something. He leaned in and kissed her lips hungrily, his hand sliding back into her curls and clutching them as she wound her arms around his neck. He smoothed his other hand up and down her back, luxuriating in the way she felt against him as he kissed the corner of her lips, then down her jaw and to her neck. She softly gasped his name as he brushed his lips down, kissing along her neck and down to her collarbone before straightening to look in her eyes.   


“Kadan,” he whispered. “I am a fortunate man indeed to have the things most precious to me returned to me. Few are so lucky.”  


“It’s just a scarf,” she teased, even though her eyes were shiny.   


“That smells like your hair,” he murmured against her ear. “That makes me think of your smile and the feeling of your lips on mine every time I look at it.” He caressed her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “But it is _you_ , Saoirse. _You_ are the most precious thing in my life and I am so grateful that we are returned to each other.”  


“Me too,” she said, her warm hands stroking his shoulders. “More grateful than I can say. I’m telling you, I should join the chantry and take a vow of chastity. Lifetime of quiet thanksgiving, and all that.”  


He growled and kissed her again, slowly walking her back until her back was pressed against the wall. “And I told you, that that would be a waste.” He looked down, smiling. “Besides, I am not inclined to share you with _anyone_.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to her bare shoulder. “That includes the Maker.”  


She let out a soft gasp and her full lips curled into a smile as she tilted her head, baring more of her throat for him. She let her shoulder drop as well and the shirt slid down in a tantalizing way. 

Suddenly he wanted to _devour_ her. To make up for every second that they had ever lost and prove to her that she was the _only_ woman in Thedas for him.   


He kissed her hard, stroking her lips with his tongue and then groaning when she parted them and returned his passion. One of his hands was tightly clutching her curls while the other pressed against her tailbone, pulling her against him as tight as he could. She was on her tiptoes, her arms around his neck, arching her back and making delicious little sounds of need into the kiss.  


She broke away abruptly, panting. “Fenris-”  


“Mmmm?” He murmured against her shoulder. He was distracted by the fact that he could see the red of her breastband from his angle and he found himself remembering with great fondness how her breasts had felt in his hands and mouth.  


“Are you sure you want to do this?” she breathed, her eyes shut tight as he kissed and nibbled a path across her collarbone.   


“Yes,” he growled and couldn’t deny the satisfaction when she whimpered.   


“Ok...wrong-wrong question,” she panted, but he could hear the smile in her voice. “I want this so much that it hurts.” She suddenly nipped at his neck, startling a laugh out of him. She rose up on her tiptoes again to brush her lips against his earlobe. “I’m so wet I’m going to have to change my smalls.”  


He growled and shoved her back against the wall, his knee between her thighs as he kissed her again. She rocked against him, moaning into the kiss. It took a long time for him to let her go and when he did they were both breathing hard.  


“Are you sure you’re ready for this kind of step?” Hawke asked, stroking her fingertips through his hair.   


He took a breath and it sounded shaky when he let it out. “I am not sure,” he said, despite what the lower portion of his body wanted him to say. “I am all right in this moment, but-”  


“But that could change,” she said.   


“Yes,” he admitted. “I think that it is getting better each day, but I understand if you do not want to wait. There are others who-”  


“I thought you weren’t inclined to share me,” she replied, raising her chin and giving him a challenging look.   


He kissed her again with a snarl, shoving her back up against the wall so hard that she made a little squeak of surprise. “I am _not_ ,” he panted.   


“ _Good_ ,” she retorted. “Then I don’t want you to say anything like that again, all right?” She kissed the corner of his lips softly. “I’m in this for the long-haul Master Tethras-Vallen.” She looked so sweet as she gazed up into his eyes. “You’re all I want, Fenris. That isn’t going to change.”  


He rubbed his nose against hers. “You are all I desire as well, Hawke,” he said softly. He let out a little chuff of laughter, aware of how uncomfortably hard he was. “Especially in this moment.”  


She giggled and rocked against him, wrapping her leg around the back of his thigh. “Thinking about making love to me, Fenris?”  


He cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. “No,” he said after a moment. He caught the brief flash of surprise in her eyes before he leaned in and put his lips to her ear. “Saoirse, I am thinking about _fucking you silly_ up against this wall.”  


She moaned and the sound was so deep and full of need that it took his breath away. He looked down at her and for just a moment caught a glimpse of the same powerful creature that he saw on the battlefield. He realized that in their past she had always been so gentle with him, he had never seen the full scope of what she was capable of. Even though he knew he wasn’t ready, the idea thrilled him. He _wanted_ to challenge her. He wanted to see what they could be together now that they were free.   


“Fuck!” she moaned.   


“That is the idea, yes.”  


She wrinkled her nose at him, but giggled when he kissed her. “You’re incorrigible,” she said.   


“I learned from the best,” he replied, leaning down to brush his nose against hers. “Hawke…”  


“Yes, love?” she asked, draping her arms over his neck once more.   


“Thank you for your patience,” he said softly, leaning his forehead against hers. “I hope that you can feel how much you are wanted. Truly, I want to go against my better judgment and have you right here because I am _yours_ and I-I have missed you.”  


“I’ve missed you too,” she said. She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “If only you could feel. But you don’t have to thank me. It is nothing you wouldn’t do for me.”  


“True,” he said, stepping back and pulling her with him to give her a proper hug. “But you would also insist on thanking me for it so…”  


She laughed. “You’re not wrong,” she said. She glanced back at the tray. “Let’s get some food into you,” she said. “And water. You’re starting to look a little pale.”  


He didn’t realize it until she mentioned it, but all of his exertions had obviously taxed him. His stomach was growling and he could feel the telltale quiver in his muscles that told him that he needed to rest. Hawke shooed him towards the chair by the fire and fixed him a plate. She regarded it for a moment and Fenris saw steam begin to rise. She did the same thing to the teapot before she poured for them.  


“It had gotten cold,” she said, setting the plate with the thick breakfast pastry down in his lap. She got one for herself and plopped down next to him. They ate in companionable silence until Hawke leaned back with a sigh. “Can I ask you something?”  


“Of course,” he said, setting down his fork. He wanted to keep eating -- Mrs. Marsh had gotten pastry recipes from Jacob’s Mrs. Rush, he’d heard -- but he knew he should take a break.  


“What didn’t you want me to see this morning?” she asked. 

He nodded. “It was a few things,” he said.   


“Your sword forms?” she asked.  


“That,” he said. “And some stretches that I learned from the Fog Warriors. They are a kind of...meditation. It helps to connect one’s body and mind.”  


She nodded. “Can I ask why you didn't want me to see?" 

He shrugged a shoulder. "I have been convalescing for some time, Hawke. If I am completely honest, I wanted to be sure that I could do it before I let you see." He chuckled softly. "All things considered, it was probably a foolish point of pride, but I promise I would not have done it alone if I didn't know that I could manage at least that much." 

"I understand," Hawke said, nodding. "I remember feeling that way after the Arishok. I did a lot of practicing with my staff alone before I went out on my missions with the rest of you." 

"I had assumed," he said. "You were almost in peak form the first time we went out." 

"Thanks for noticing," she said with a soft smile. 

"I always notice your form, Hawke," he teased back, feeling a little flutter in his belly when her cheeks colored. 

"Likewise," Hawke replied quietly. "Speaking of which, would you mind if I joined you in your stretching sometimes?" 

He smiled wryly. “Now that I at least know I will not shame myself terribly? No, I would not mind.”  


She grinned at him. “Not every morning,” she assured him. “I want you to have your space to do things you enjoy doing for yourself. But I’d like to learn and I think it’d be a good way for me to keep an eye on how you’re healing.” She cocked her had. “How did it feel this morning?”  


“It felt good,” he said with a smile. “Familiar. It made me feel...stronger. More grounded.”  


“I couldn’t ask for more,” she said with a relieved smile. “Take your plate?”   


He nodded and handed it to her.   


“Did you maybe want to go for a walk today?” she asked once she’d put the tray in the hallway. “Might do you some good to get outside.”  


“I would like that,” he said. He glanced down at himself. “I will need to dress,” he said wryly. “Or Hightown will get an eyeful.”  


“Can’t have that,” Hawke said with mock heat. She went to the wardrobe and Fenris felt his eyes widen when she opened the heavy doors. Inside he saw _his_ things. Or, judging from how they looked at a distance, higher quality replicas of his things. “I borrowed some of your clothes to get measurements,” she explained. “I put the originals back,” she hurried to add. “But I had Edwina and Gordon make you some new ones in the softest fabrics that I could get a hold of so that you'd be comfortable while you were healing. You’ve got some new heavy duty stuff too, but I figured-”  


He had crept up behind her while she was moving hangers and startled a yelp out of her when he wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her from behind. “I cannot believe you did this for me,” he said, brushing a wondering hand over the new clothes. He almost moaned at their softness. “It is beyond considerate, Saoirse.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against her cheek. “I suppose there is no use in me telling you that it is too generous a gift?”  


“Nope!” she agreed cheerfully. She turned in his arms and gave him a peck on the lips. “Why don’t you get dressed?” she said. “I’ll do the same. Then we can go for our walk. Do you need help?”  


He shook his head and reluctantly let her leave his arms. She shot him a brilliant smile before she left the room, shutting the door quietly behind herself.  


Fenris wasted no time in reaching into the wardrobe and pulling out his clothes for the day. Smalls made of a fabric that whispered against his skin, trousers of soft wool dyed a gray so dark it was almost black. He grinned when he picked up the belt that hung from a clever little hook on the door. It was the one that he’d worn to Aveline’s wedding. Finally, a shirt made of a light fabric that rasped slightly against the rough calluses of his palms. He saw, with some surprise, that his greatsword was hanging from its straps in the back of the wardrobe and it was then that he realized that given the size of the wardrobe on the outside, there should have been more space on the inside. He spent a moment poking and prodding before he found the catch to a door on the inside. It allowed him to open the wardrobe further, revealing an armor stand. His black armor was resting upon it, polished to a dull shine. Worn out pieces of leather had been replaced, and the broken rivet he had been meaning to attend to was repaired. He contemplated, for a moment, putting his armor and sword on, but he knew that he was not quite strong enough yet. He wanted to be able to walk with Hawke, not get winded within the first few minutes. Still, it mattered to him that she had taken care of those things.   


“It’s a little chilly today,” Hawke said from outside the door. “There’s a gambeson in there that should keep you warm.”   


Fenris found the black gambeson with silver stitching and shrugged it on, feeling the comforting weight of the carefully quilted material with satisfaction. The entire outfit was the most well-fitting and comfortable one he had ever owned. It must have cost Hawke a fortune.   


He hurried to the mantle and picked up Hawke’s crest, attaching it to his belt. The moment he did it was as though something clicked into place. Her crest was, he realized, its own kind of armor for him. It represented everything that he held dear, everything that he loved about the life that was well and truly his own now.  


He hurried to the door and swung it open, taking her into his arms before she could say anything. He gave her a gentle kiss, hoping that it conveyed how grateful he was for all she had done.   
“Thank you,” he said, just to be sure.  


She smiled at him and took a step back, looking him up and down. “Edwina and Gordon are treasures,” she said, shaking her head. “You look so handsome, Fenris! How does it feel?”  


“I was just thinking that this is the most well-fitting, comfortable clothing I’ve ever owned.” He pulled back the gambeson shyly, showing her where he wore her crest on his belt. “I am grateful that my outfit is complete.”  


She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him before taking a step back and giving a little spin. He realized that he’d been so intent on kissing her that he hadn’t immediately noticed that Hawke was dressed in a most un-Hawke fashion. She was wearing a simple dress of the same wool that made up his pants, but with red embroidered flowers around the collar. It hugged her upper body before flaring out at her hips, and its sleeves were long enough to halfway cover her hands. It was soft to the touch when he wrapped his arms around her waist. “You are lovely, Kadan,” he said, giving her a gentle kiss on the lips. “I am going to be the envy of all Hightown.”  


“Hush,” she said, blushing. “I just...wanted to look nice for you, that’s all.”  


“You always do,” he said with feeling. He straightened and offered her his arm. “My lady, Hawke, if you would be so kind?”  


She giggled and accepted his arm, feeling lovely and warm against him. “With pleasure Master Tethras-Vallen.”  


They both somehow managed to keep a straight face for a heartbeat before breaking down into laughter. It felt so _good_ to laugh with her. Together they walked down the stairs where Hawke accepted a shawl and reticule from Orana. Then, they walked out into Hightown arm in arm and Fenris felt like the proudest man in all of Thedas. He was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! We are continuing to ride the fluff train for a while yet. Smut is rapidly approaching! Thank you for reading this far! <3


	26. A Gentle Start *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris does his best to repay both Varric and Hawke's loving attention.

“You ready, Broody?”  


Fenris made sure that his purse was securely tucked into the inner pocket of his doublet and then nodded to Varric. Now that he was officially on the mend, he had begun to make little forays out into Kirkwall with their friends. At Hawke’s gentle insistence he had been seen (though not touched) by Anders for a second opinion about his healing progress. Isabela had taken him out for a drink (even she had known better than to trifle with Hawke and had only given him one extra). Merril had convinced him to go for a little jaunt down to the docks. Aveline and Donnic had had him over for dinner and a few hands of Diamondback and Aveline had even allowed him to resume training with her guards. Granted, he was training with the greener guards until she was convinced that he’d recovered fully, but still. It was good to be out and doing things again. Not that he minded being in Hawke’s estate. It felt very comforting and intimate to know that she was just in the other room.   


Today though, today was going to be special. Today Fenris had a plan and he had enlisted Varric’s help in carrying it through. Hawke had done so much for him, well, they both had. But Fenris had already found a way to thank Varric. “In just a moment,” Fenris said. “I wanted to give you something.”  


Varric raised a thick eyebrow. “You’ll forgive me if that makes me a little nervous.”  


Fenris chuckled. “I am not Isabela. I promise you have nothing to fear.”  


The truth was, Fenris was nervous. Hawke had assured him that Varric would like what he had found, but he did not have much experience giving gifts. What if Varric hated it?  


Fenris took a deep breath and reached into his wardrobe. He pulled out a heavy box and handed it to Varric. “If you hate it, I can take it back,” he said hurriedly.   


Varric had the oddest expression on his face as he accepted the heavy parcel. He set it down on the bed and gently pulled off the top portion of the box. Inside, on top of the thick paper that wrapped the present, Fenris had laid Varric’s necklace.  


“You’ve been spending too much time with humans,” Varric teased. “Giving me back something that’s mine and calling it a gift.”  


Fenris chuckled, shaking his head. “That is rather human of me, isn’t it?”  


Varric grinned at him but hesitated before putting the heavy necklace on. “Are you sure you don’t need it anymore?” he said quietly.   


Fenris nodded. “I am,” he said. “But Varric, I-I cannot tell you how...how much it helped,” he said, thinking of the nights where nightmares woke him and the comforting weight of the necklace grounded him. “Truly, I am grateful. Thank you.”  


“All right, elf,” Varric said, putting the necklace back on. “No need to get all mushy.” But he was smiling. “So is there something else in that box?”  


Fenris smiled. “You should look.”  


The thick paper inside crinkled as Varric pushed it away. “Andraste, Fenris!” Varric reached into the box and carefully pulled out Fenris’ gift. It was a heavy leather portfolio made from the hide of a bronto, dyed to a rich, dark brown. There were wooden inserts in both the front and back covers meant to make them stiff so that they could be a surface to write upon. Inside there were pockets for parchment, holders for quills and a little quill sharpening knife. There was even an inkwell that could be fitted into a clever holder on the front cover so the whole thing could be used as a sort of portable desk. A series of intricately carved bone toggles held the whole thing closed.  


“Yours had seen better days,” Fenris said when the silence had lapsed long enough for him to be worried. “And you said-”  


“I said that it was a piece of junk I hadn’t gotten around to replacing because every time I turn around Kirkwall is on fire,” Varric finished softly. “That’s why you were asking about it the other week.”  


Fenris nodded.   


Varric ran a hand that shook over the front cover where a likeness of his necklace had been tooled in bronze. Fenris had to give it to the artisan, because she’d managed to precisely duplicate the color and somehow convey the heft of the heirloom necklace. In the middle of the tooling, inside the large center ring of the necklace, Fenris had asked her to add a single dwarven rune. “I know that you don’t really like things from Orzimmar,” Fenris hurried to explain. “But I wanted you to have something that conveyed how important you are to me. And then I heard this word and when I learned what it meant it just seemed too perfect. I hope that it is not-”  


“Easy, Broody,” Varric said, his voice thick. “It’s all right. It’s beautiful.” He looked up at Fenris and Fenris was alarmed to see that there were tears in his friend’s eyes. “Salroka. There’s a word Surfacers don’t hear often.” His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “It means ‘One at my side’,” he said quietly.   


“Well...you are,” Fenris said, blushing. At least he’d gotten the word right. “You always have been, Varric. It felt like the right word.” Anything else he might have said was forestalled by Varric catching him in an embrace that all but crushed the air out of his lungs.   


“Salroka,” Varric said, giving him another bone-crunching squeeze. “You are for me too, Fenris.”  


Fenris felt warmth fill his heart as he returned the embrace. “You like it, then?”  


“Not the right word, Broody,” Varric said, taking a step back and wiping his eyes. “Not even close.” He reached out and clasped Fenris’ arm just above his elbow. “Thank you, Fenris. I will treasure it for the rest of my life.” He took a deep breath. “Now, before you get me composing bad poetry, why don’t we see about this plan of yours. Do you have an idea of where you want to go?”  


Fenris grinned at him and nodded. “I think so,” he said. “You think that she’ll like it?”  


Varric chuckled and led the way out of Fenris’ quarters and towards the markets. “Again, Broody, not the right word.”

****

Hawke hurried across the plaza towards her estate, worriedly glancing at the sun. It was late, much later than she had intended to be out. It seemed like everyone she knew had sent her letters this morning, asking her to swing by and chat. She and Aveline had discussed the growing tensions with the mages and templars, she and Merril had gone on a walk to find some stray kittens to bring to the clinic. Anders had wanted to talk to her about the mages and templars as well, though he had largely wanted to talk about ways to smuggle mages out of the city. It had been nice to see some of the tension leave his brow as the kittens clambered all over him, but she was worried about the other mage. It didn’t seem like he was sleeping and he was more on edge these days. Though, she supposed, they all were. Isabela had invited her over for a drink and pressed another volume of the Canticle of Esmerelda into her hands “for when Fenris is feeling better”. She had been particularly excited about this one, given that apparently it took place aboard a pirate ship. “The author really knows her stuff!” Isabela had said. “Used the right terms and everything. Though it’s a little impractical to think that you could tie your lover to the mast without someone seeing. The deck is never empty.”   


She knew that she shouldn’t worry too much. Varric had promised to stop by and check on Fenris, but still, it was the longest she’d been gone since Fenris’ rescue. She opened the front door and was immediately greeted by Orana. The other woman was smiling and holding a glass of wine. “Mistress, you’re home!” Orana said, handing her the glass. “If you’ll follow me?”  


Hawke frowned, setting down her bag and accepting the wine. “What’s going on, Orana?”  


“I can’t say,” Orana said. “Please just trust us, mistress?”  


“All right,” Hawke said, giving in. She followed Orana down to the bathing chamber where a steaming bath was drawn. The room was filled with candles and the scent of cedarwood. Next to the tub was a little table with a bell and a small carafe of wine.  


“Just ring the bell when you are done, mistress,” Orana said. “Please take your time and relax.”  


Hawke nodded, perplexed, and began to disrobe. Still, she couldn’t deny how lovely the water felt and she realized that she couldn’t remember the last time she had just taken a bath for the sake of relaxation. She settled back with the glass of wine and closed her eyes. She found herself imagining what it would be like to lean back against Fenris in the tub and smiled. It probably wouldn’t be conducive to getting clean, even with the fairly reserved intimacy they had been sharing since his return. Still, imagining his arms around her in the dim light and the hot water made her feel happy and she thanked the Maker once again for his safe return.   


She spent a languid half a bell or so getting clean and enjoying the tart wine that Orana had left with her before curiosity overcame her. She climbed out of the tub and wrapped herself in a thick towel before ringing the little bell. She was unsurprised when Orana opened the door right away. She stepped into the bathing chamber with a dress draped over her arm. “If you don’t mind, my lady,” she said a little shyly, holding up the dress and some underthings.  


Hawke took it from her with a raised eyebrow. “This dress isn’t mine,” she said.   


“Begging your pardon, mistress,” Orana replied. “But it is. It’s new.”  


“I’m intrigued,” Hawke said wryly.   


“I’ll help you with the back, when you’re ready,” Orana said before scurrying out again.  


Hawke took the dress over to the little dressing area behind the screen and hung it up on the rack in the corner. She dried off and, given that this was clearly a special occasion, put on a little bit of her favorite perfume, a spicy scent that reminded her of fall, before beginning to dress. She slid into the dress, letting out a little sigh of pleasure at the soft wool as it slid across her skin. The dress was black, a color she didn’t often wear, but when she pulled it up she gasped with surprise. Around the collar was silver embroidery done in the Fereldan knotwork style. In the center of the collar, just below her clavicle, the knots formed a stylized silver wolf.   


“Fenris,” Hawke breathed, feeling tears prickle her eyes. “Orana?”  


The elf hurried in, smiling. “I hope you don’t mind, my lady,” she said, quickly doing up the laces at the back of the dress. “But Master Fenris asked for your measurements. Said he wanted to get you something nice after you bought him a whole new wardrobe.”   


“Of course I don’t mind,” Hawke said, turning and embracing Orana as soon as the dress was tied.   


Orana hugged her back and her cheeks were red when she pulled back. “You look lovely, my lady,” she said.  


Hawke grinned at her and smoothed her hands down the front of the dress. She felt oddly...pretty. “Thank you,” she said. “So...what next?”  


Orana inclined her head towards the door. “If you’ll follow me?” she said.   


Hawke let Orana lead her from the bathing chamber and up into the main hall of the estate. Once they walked through the door, she gasped. The room was lit only by the blazing fire and candles and Fenris was standing by the fire, dressed in the outfit he had worn to Aveline’s wedding, minus the boots.   


“Enjoy, Mistress,” Orana said before hurrying off into one of the anterooms and closing the door softly.  


Fenris smiled and strode towards her, his shoulders back and his head up. “Surprise, Hawke,” he said quietly, holding out his hand.   


Hawke took his hand and from the landing by her bedroom she heard a fiddle began to play softly. Fenris twirled her around and then pulled her against himself and the two began to dance. Hawke looked up at him wonderingly. “What is all this?” she murmured, doing her best to stay out of her head and let him lead her in a slow, measured waltz.  


Fenris smiled down at her. “We have not had many chances to simply...enjoy one another,” he said softly, then blushed.   


Hawke shivered and grinned up at him and he shook his head with a chuckle. “Incorrigible,” he murmured into her ear, his hand tightening on her back. “But in all sincerity, Saoirse, I wanted to just...spend time with you as a man and woman. You have spent weeks caring for me, which I am more grateful for than I can begin to say, but I wished to hold you as your partner, rather than your patient.” His cheeks colored slightly. “More than anything else, I wished to make you smile.”  


She felt her throat clench as she looked into his eyes. “No one has ever done anything like this for me,” she said softly. “I don’t even know what to say, besides ‘thank you’.”  


He leaned his head against hers. “We have only just begun,” he said and she could hear the smile on his face. He pulled back and looked down at her and his expression was so sweet she had to tilt her face up for a kiss. “I hope that I was not too presumptuous in asking Orana for your measurements,” he said after a moment of unhurried kissing. “The dress looks lovely on you.”  


“It’s beautiful,” she said and meant it. “I noticed the rather unique embroidery.”  


He chuckled. “I know it is a bit on the nose,” he said. “But I saw it and could not resist.”  


She grinned. “Trying to lay claim, or something, Fenris?”   


He pulled her a little more tightly against himself and she caught her breath at the look that he gave her. There was real hunger in his eyes. “And if I were?” he asked softly.   


She met his gaze squarely. “I’m yours,” she said.  


He stopped dancing and pulled her into a tight embrace, his lips finding hers. She leaned against him, her arms around his neck, and parted her lips to allow him to deepen the kiss. His hands were firm but gentle on her back as he stroked up and down, and one of them eventually made its way around to cup her cheek. “Hawke,” he breathed after a few moments.   


“Fenris,” she whispered.   


“Would you like to see what else I have planned?” he asked. “Or shall we dance some more?”  


She nestled under his chin. “Dance for a little longer?” she murmured, surprising herself. It felt so good to be in his arms, she wasn’t ready for it to end.  


He rumbled his assent and gestured to the fiddler in the corner before sweeping her off into a slightly faster dance that had the added benefit of requiring him to hold her even closer. She had no idea what the steps were or where Fenris had learned them, but she did her best to let him lead. It helped that they were both barefoot. At least that way when she stepped on his toes she didn’t have to feel too badly about it. Finally, after a particularly daring dip that had her giggling, Hawke breathlessly called a halt.  


“I’m glad to see your endurance is back,” she teased, brushing her nose against his.   


He grinned down at her and kissed her lips, her cheek, and just below her ear. “Indeed,” he whispered and she shivered. She knew when he looked at her that it had been intentional on his part.   


He stood up straight and offered her his arm, though the heat was still there in his eyes. “I hope that you have worked up an appetite,” he said in the same low voice.  


“Indeed,” she replied, allowing him to lead her up to the landing. There was a table set for two, lit by candles with two covered plates and a bottle of wine. A vase of sunflowers stood in the middle and Hawke smiled. “My favorite,” she said.  


Fenris nodded and pulled out her chair, scooting it in for her once she was seated.   


The fiddler materialized from the shadows and Hawke recognized her as one of the Ferelden refugees from the Hanged Man. She was dressed as finely as any noble servant and she gave them a cheeky wink as she lifted the cloches that covered the plates. Underneath on each plate was a meat pie with pastry cooked to a beautiful golden brown and cutouts shaped like ivy in the center of the crust.   


“Fenris, you didn’t!” Hawke breathed.   


He chuckled and looked at her shyly from his place across the table. “I did.”  


“But how-”  


“As enthusiastically as you and Carver always described the Harvest Festival and the venison pies, it was not hard to track some down,” he said. “I found a Ferelden baker in Lowtown who was very excited to make something from home.” He nodded to the steaming pie. “Please, eat. You have been out all day. I’m sure you’re hungry.”  


“Was me being out all day a part of the plan?” Hawke asked as she pierced the flaky pastry with her fork.  


Fenris gave a nonchalant shrug. “Our friends were very happy to help.”  


Hawke might have had something snarky to say, but she was too busy letting her eyes roll back in her head at the first bite of the venison pie. The taste pulled her back through time and space to a time before the Blight. She could smell the smoke from the bonfire and hear the sound of the fiddles and bodhrán. She could hear the sound of her mother’s laughter as her father pulled her into a reel and the giggles of the twins as they tried to mimic them. There was Old Gertie, with the stall she set up every year to sell the pies filled with venison hunted by her six enormous sons and one enormous daughter.   


“Hawke?” she felt Fenris’ hands on her shoulders and opened her eyes, tears trickling down her cheeks. Fenris was kneeling next to her chair, his eyes worried. “Hawke-I’m sorry, I did not mean-”  


She hugged him tightly around the neck, kissing his cheek. “It’s amazing,” she whispered through her tears. “You’re amazing. I went back home for just a moment, Fenris. I-” she pulled back and took his cheeks in her hands. “Thank you, Kadan.”  


He smiled up at her, the relief written across his face as he leaned in and kissed her. “As long as you are happy,” he said, bringing his hand up and caressing her cheek. “That is all I wanted.”  


“I am,” she said. “I promise. The memories are bittersweet, of course, but I am so grateful for this little bit of my past. And now I have another beautiful memory to associate with this taste.” She kissed him and, hoping to lighten the mood once again, nodded towards his plate. “You should eat it before Copper finds it.”  


“A good point,” Fenris said with a laugh, rising and returning to his spot. “Though I believe he is keeping Sandal company tonight.”  


“Oh?” Hawke teased. “Why is that?”  


“I did not want to be interrupted,” Fenris said calmly, his eyes not leaving hers. “And you have to admit, Copper has terrible timing.”  


Hawke laughed, though she felt her heart begin to beat faster. Together they ate in companionable silence until Hawke laid down her fork. “Maker,” she said softly. “I just want to keep eating because it’s delicious, but I had better stop.” She looked into his eyes, hoping that he knew she meant every word she said. “Fenris, this was delicious and so greatly appreciated. Thank you.”  


He rose and offered her his hand. “It was my pleasure,” he said. He pulled her close when she stood and kissed her, before nodding towards her quarters. “There is something else,” he said shyly. “Close your eyes.”  


She swallowed hard and let him lead her to her rooms. She heard the door close and lock behind them and then the sound of Fenris taking a deep breath.   


“All right,” Fenris said. “You can open them.”  


Hawke did as he asked and when she opened her eyes she found herself blinking at the sudden low light. There were a few candelabras lit, as well as the fire, but Fenris now stood before her in his shirtsleeves holding out a little box.   


“For me?” she asked shyly. “Fenris-”  


“Please,” he said. “I want very much for you to have it.”  


Hawke took a deep breath and nodded, accepting the box from him. She opened it with shaking hands and gasped when she saw what lay inside. It was a little silver pendant done in the same Ferelden style as the knotwork embroidery on her dress, shaped like head of a wolf with eyes made of two tiny chips of jade. She lifted it from the box, admiring the workmanship as her heart fluttered in her chest.  


“Fenris,” she whispered. “It’s lovely. Thank you!” She glanced up in time to see the heat in his expression as he looked down at her. “Can you help me with the clasp?” she asked. “I’m hopeless with jewelry.”  


“With pleasure,” Fenris murmured, coming around behind her. He took the necklace from her and she shivered at the cold of the silver as it slid between her breasts. The light weight chain settled around her neck and she reached up to touch it, feeling warm all the way through. She gave a little gasp of surprise when Fenris’ arms slid around her waist and pulled her tight against him. His lips brushed against the back of her neck and then the outer shell of her ear.  


“You asked me if I wished to lay a claim,” he said in the low rumble that she adored. “Perhaps now you have your answer.”  


Hawke did her best to control her breathing. “I suppose it is only fair,” she managed to say in a voice that shook. “You wear my crest, after all.”  


“Mmmm,” he murmured against her ear, sending another shiver through her body. “Proudly.”   


Hawke would have had something to say normally, but Fenris chose that moment to begin to softly kiss the back of her neck and top of her shoulder. “Saoirse,” he murmured.  


“Yes?” she breathed.   


He hesitated, his arms tightening around her waist as his lips stilled. “There is one more thing I would like to do,” he said. “May I take off your dress?”  


“You did buy it for me,” she said. She had aimed for a sassy tone, but she sounded shamelessly wanton. _In for a copper, in for a sovereign_ , she thought. “Yes, Fenris, as long as you’re sure.”  


His response was an open-mouthed kiss on where her neck and shoulder met and Hawke let out a moan worthy of any person at the Rose. She heard Fenris chuckle behind her, but there was an edge to it. His hands slid back around her body, slowly dragging over her stomach and ribs until they met at the laces of the dress. “I am certain,” he said quietly. “As long as you will have me.”  


“I’m yours,” Hawke said again. “All of me.”  


“As I am yours, Kadan,” Fenris said, kissing the nape of her neck. She could feel the laces growing looser as Fenris slowly undid them, and the dress slowly began to slip down the front of her body. 

She let her arms slide out of the sleeves and heard herself gasp as, with the final lace, the dress slithered to the floor. She was breathing hard now, her whole body afire with need. Fenris’ hands traced over her shoulders and down her arms as he began to kiss down her spine. He paused at her breastband. “Hawke?”  


“Seems kind of silly to stop now,” she said breathlessly. “Are you still ok?”  


“Not quite,” Fenris said, his voice once again in her ear. Her breastband fell to the ground and Fenris wrapped his arms around her again, pressing his body up against her back. She could feel how hard he was against the small of her back and she let out a little groan of need. “I am certain you can feel the source of my distress.”  


“I-” she swallowed hard as his fingertips began to trace over her stomach, slowly moving upwards towards her breasts. “I could probably help you with that,” she managed to say.  


“Perhaps later,” he said, his breath ghosting across her ear and making her shudder.   


Hawke whimpered, aching for his hands to move just a little further up. “Fenris-” she hesitated, not wanting to ask for something she didn’t know if he was ready for.   


His fingertips trailed over her belly and sides, coming achingly close to her breasts, but not touching them. “You can say it,” he said.   


“Say what?” she said, trying to sound more in control than she felt.  


“What you want,” he growled, nipping at her neck.   


“I don’t want to push you,” she said. Her body trembled beneath his hands and between her legs she was so slick she knew that she must be soaking through her smalls.   


“You are not pushing,” he said, kissing her shoulder. “If you ask for something I do not feel comfortable giving, I will tell you. I promise.” He nipped at the spot he had just kissed. “Now, was there something you wanted, Saoirse?”  


“Please touch me!” Hawke whispered, unable to hold back any longer.  


“Touch you?” Fenris murmured, his hands continuing their tantalizing journey across her skin. “Is that not what I am doing?”   


“You just want me to say it,” she groaned.  


“You would want the same,” he replied.   


She shivered and felt the color rise to her cheeks. It had been awhile since she’d last had cause to speak of such things and she found herself feeling self-conscious. Fenris, attentive as always, seemed to sense her nerves. His hands flattened against her belly and slowly began to slide up.   


“Though,” he said as his hands continued to rise, “I do recall you having a weakness for hearing filth from me.”  


“It’s your voice,” Hawke breathed, trying to remain still as his hands got tantalizingly close to her breasts.   


“I know,” he said, his voice suddenly a little lower and a little quieter.   


_He’s toying with me_ , Hawke thought. Not that she minded.   


“Did you want me to ‘caress the tempting, caramel mountains of my beloved’?’” Fenris asked, a smile in his voice.  


The sudden reference to the book they had enjoyed together caught Hawke off-guard and she let out an undignified snort of laughter. Fenris chose that moment to cup both of her breasts in his strong, calloused hands and Hawke’s laughter turned to a moan of pure unadulterated need.  


“Never-” she groaned as he gently pinched her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “Never call them ‘caramel mountains’ again.”  


Fenris laughed quietly and gave her breasts a squeeze. “Noted,” he said against her ear. “Would you rather I call them ‘tits’, like Isabela?”  


Hawke shuddered at hearing him use the cruder word. “I-I certainly won’t stop you.”  


“Isabela was the first to guess how I felt about you,” Fenris said, his hands continuing their maddening work as he brushed his fingertips over her achingly hard nipples. “She told me that I kept staring at your tits.”  


“I-” Hawke gasped as he gave a gentle tug on her nipples. “I didn’t mind,” she managed to say.  


“Good to know,” Fenris said. He pulled her more tightly against himself and nuzzled the side of her neck. “Maker, Saoirse,” he breathed. “You feel so good. I have missed touching you.”  


She nodded, her throat dry.   


“I cannot wait to taste,” he said and Hawke felt her knees get weak. She wanted it, she wanted all of it.   


“Please do,” she panted finally as she unabashedly rocked into his hands. “It feels so good to have your hands on me, Fenris. I’ve missed you so much.”  


“Kadan,” Fenris whispered raggedly. She would have groaned when he took his hands away, but he spun her quickly to face him and kissed her hard. She melted against him and let out a surprised squeak when he picked her up.  


“I’m not-”  


“You are not too heavy,” Fenris said with gentle good humor. He deposited her on the bed, looking down at her hungrily as she propped herself up on her elbows. “Maker, you are lovely.” His full lips curled into a smile. “I quite like seeing that necklace between your breasts.”  


Hawke brought one hand up and stroked it over the little silver wolf. “Oh?”  


He nodded, his eyes intently focused on hers. “It is a place I hope to be as well soon,” he replied.  


She arched her back, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. “You’re always welcome,” she replied in what she hoped was a suitably husky voice.  


“Good to know,” Fenris said, leaning in and kissing her collarbone. He kissed up to her neck and along her jawline before kissing her lips deeply and then pulling back. “First there is something I would like to do for you, Hawke,” he said softly. “If you will allow it.”  


Hawke grinned at him, her heart pounding beneath her breast. “Probably,” she teased. “Depends on what it is.”  


Fenris chuckled. “Lie down,” he said. “On your stomach.”  


Hawke swallowed hard, her entire body alight with need. She did as he asked without question and glanced back over her shoulder when she was settled. She caught Fenris staring at her ass and grinned at him. He smiled back, his eyes dark with desire as he climbed onto the bed. He ghosted his hands over her legs and up over her ass, making her rock back into his touch. She’d been without him for so long. She wanted to feel him again. She felt him settle next to her.  


“Hawke, these past few weeks you have worked so hard to make me whole again,” Fenris said, his voice rough with emotion. She looked back at him and was rewarded with an incredibly sweet smile. 

“Today has been about showing you how much it has meant to me. How much you mean to me. Now I would like to give you some measure of what you have given me.” He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small bottle. “If you will permit me, I-I would like to give you a massage.”  


Hawke felt her eyes widen and she reached for his hand, propping herself up on one elbow. “Fenris, are you sure?”   


He nodded, but she knew him well enough to see the tension in the corners of his eyes. “I am no longer a slave,” he said quietly. “I am a free man, and I would not be if it were not for you.” He took a deep breath. “I would like to reclaim this, Hawke. I want this to be something that I can do for you.” He smiled wryly. “Maker knows that you get hurt often enough.” He grew serious again and his voice got quieter. “When you did it for me, I felt cherished. I am hopeful that doing it for you will make you feel the same...because you are.”  


She looked up at him wonderingly. “How can I say no to that?” she breathed. “But you have to promise-”  


“I will stop if I need to,” he said, his lips curling into a smile. “I promise, Hawke.”  


She wrinkled her nose at him, chuckling.   


He smiled back and uncorked the bottle, holding it out to her to smell. “I thought you would like this one,” he said.   


Hawke sniffed and immediately recognized the fresh scent of clary sage. It was her favorite thing to add to her bath water. “Talking to Orana again?” she teased.  


He shrugged a shoulder, smiling shyly. “Perhaps.” He took a deep breath. “May I begin?”  


Hawke nodded, resting her head on her folded arms. She felt Fenris’ weight shift and let out a surprised little moan when he straddled her. She heard a soft chuckle and wiggled her ass against him, earning herself a quiet grunt of need.   


“Stop that,” Fenris growled teasingly.   


Hawke subsided and went still, trying to control her breathing. It was tantalizing to feel him so close. However, she was quickly distracted by the feeling of Fenris’ cool hands beginning to stroke her back. She gasped as his thumbs dug into her muscles, seeking out knots she hadn’t even realized were there. He was slow and deliberate as he worked, starting at her neck and working his way down her back. She yelped when he came across a particularly tense spot in her lower back and his hands instantly stilled.  


“Kadan?” he asked. “Are you all right?”  


“It’s just tight there,” she said. “I hadn’t realized.”  


“Here?” Fenris asked, gently rubbing the sore area.   


“Yes,” Hawke breathed. She groaned loudly as Fenris cautiously put pressure on the knot, his fingers working in slow circles. Gradually the tension eased and Hawke felt herself melting into the bed. 

“Fuck,” she breathed. “Fenris, that feels amazing.”  


“I am glad,” he said and she could hear the smile on his face.  


“Are you ok?” she asked, glancing back.   


Fenris smiled down at her, nodding. “I am,” he said. “It feels very good to take care of you this way. Now please just relax and stop worrying about me, just for now.”  


Hawke felt her eyes prickle, realizing just how telling Fenris’ words were. She knew that he had been carrying a great deal of guilt about what he saw as being a burden to her, not to mention the circumstances that had led to it. She did as he asked, allowing herself to relax into his skilled, tender touch. It had to have been over an hour before Fenris paused, smoothing his palms over her back.   


“How do you feel?” he asked.   


“Mmmmmm,” Hawke replied. “Incredible.”  


Fenris shifted off of her body and stretched out next to her and she wasted no time in turning and putting her head on his shoulder. “Good,” he said, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her forehead.   


Hawke yawned and hugged him around the waist. “Tonight was wonderful, Fenris,” she said sleepily. “I wish that it would never end.”  


“As do I,” he replied, stroking his fingertips over her shoulder. “But there will be other nights.”  


Hawke smiled, feeling the pull of sleep. “Promise?”  


“You have my word,” Fenris said.  


Hawke sighed happily and, comforted by the feeling of Fenris’ body against hers, quickly fell into a deep, restful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone just needs some FLUFF. Next couple of chapters will be more on the smutty side. Posting tonight because I'll be at work tomorrow and I'd rather be early than late :D. I hope that you all had a lovely weekend. Thank you for sticking with me! I hope that you are all still enjoying!


	27. Kadan *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Saoirse are finally able to lie together, but it comes with a hard conversation or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all.....SMUT WITH FEELINGS INCOMING! It's _so good_ to write smut again! :D I hope you enjoy!

A soft snore woke Fenris from the deep sleep he had fallen into and he didn’t even have to open his eyes to know that he was in Hawke’s bed with her warm little body pressed up against him. The scents of clary sage and lavender filled his nose, mixed with the fruity scent of Hawke’s hair. Keeping his eyes closed so as not to break the spell of early morning, Fenris pressed his lips to her curls and smiled at her soft, happy murmur.   


“Good morning, Saoirse,” he said quietly.  


She tightened her arm around him. “Morning, Fenris,” she replied.   


He felt her lips brush against his jaw and he tilted his face down, catching them with his own. She moaned quietly into the kiss, the tip of her tongue brushing against his lips. He was all too happy to deepen the kiss, lightly stroking his tongue against hers as he pulled her more firmly against himself. She was smiling when he opened his eyes and he smiled back, bringing one hand up to caress her face.   


“I like waking up next to you,” she said.  


“Likewise,” he said. “Particularly when you fall asleep almost naked.”  


Hawke blushed, but arched her back, pressing her breasts against his side. “Oh?”  


Fenris shivered and turned his body towards her. She grinned at him and draped her leg over his hip, scooting close. He wrapped his arms around her more fully and kissed her, loving how she rocked into him.   


“Thank you again for last night,” Hawke said against his lips, one of her warm hands stroking his lower back. “It was perfect.”  


“You are very welcome,” he replied, cupping her cheek. “It was my pleasure.”  


They kissed again, and it was slow and soft and so sweet that it filled every corner of Fenris’ heart with warmth. The hand that was stroking his back caught the edge of his shirt, pushing it up, and Fenris arched into the unexpected contact with a gasp. Instantly she pulled back, her eyes wide and worried.   


“I’m sorry!” she said. “I wasn’t trying to-”  


“It’s all right,” Fenris said, forcing himself to relax. He leaned his forehead against hers. “I want you to touch me, Saoirse,” he said.  


“Are you sure?” she asked. “I don’t need to, well, I _do_ , but I can wait-”  


“But _I_ cannot,” Fenris said, taking her hand. He kissed her palm and then brought her hand down to his stomach, sliding it under his shirt and flattening it against his belly. “I am yours,” he said, meeting her eyes. He saw them grow shiny in the early morning light and he kissed her softly, moaning against her lips as her warm hand began to stroke up and down his side. He could feel his cock growing hard at her touch and knew that she felt it too when the leg over his hip tightened. She explored his body slowly, trailing her fingertips over his side and then down to his stomach, and up his chest. She wrapped her arm around him and caressed his back and with every moment she was touching him, Fenris felt himself relaxing further. He could feel the hard points of her nipples through his shirt, and suddenly he couldn’t stand having anything between them any more. “Hawke,” he said against her lips.  


“What is it, love?” she asked, her hand stilling.   


“I need-” Fenris swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat. “I need to feel you.” He sat up and, before he could second-guess himself, pulled his shirt over his head.   


“Fenris,” Hawke breathed.   


He self-consciously smoothed a hand over his belly. He had worked hard to regain his old form, but he didn’t feel that he was quite where he had been. Still, the appreciative look on Hawke’s face was encouraging. “There is still work to be done,” he said.  


Hawke snorted. “If you say so,” she said dubiously. “But I have no complaints.”  


He smiled at her, his cheeks warming as he blushed. “Is that so?” he murmured.   


“Come here and I’ll show you,” she growled at him playfully.   


Fenris leaned down and kissed her, moaning when she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down. He was more than willing to stretch out on top of her, loving the way her body felt beneath him. It was electrifying, and yet comfortingly familiar, and he smiled into the kiss.   


“I’ve missed you,” she said, her warm fingertips stroking up and down his spine.   


“I have missed you too,” he said. “More than I can say.” He took a deep breath and reluctantly rolled to the side. There was something that needed to be said. “Hawke...we have never discussed what happened between us three years ago.”  


She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t reply, allowing him a moment to gather his thoughts.  


“I felt like a fool,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers so that he didn’t have to meet her eyes. “I thought it better that you hated me. I deserved no less. But it isn’t better. That night...I remember your touch as if it were yesterday. I should have asked your forgiveness long ago. I hope you can forgive me now.”  


She pulled back a little and looked up at him. “I need to understand why you left, Fenris.”  


Fenris took a deep breath. This was it. “I’ve thought about the answer a thousand times,” he began. “The pain. The memories it brought up. It was too much. To get them all back, only to lose them again I...I told you about some of my past. About the Fog Warriors and what happened to them when they helped me.”  


She nodded, her eyes intently focused on him.   


“That was my memory of the kind of man I was, Hawke. And that man was not a man who deserved you.”  


“Don’t you think that should have been _my choice?_ ” she asked gently. She was always so gentle. So kind.  


“That is what Varric said,” he replied with a wry smile. The smile faded as the memories returned, clamoring for his attention. “Do you remember the nightmare that I had, about us being wed? About our children?”  


“Of course,” she said, brushing his hair off of his forehead.  


He gave a miserable shrug. “If even a fraction of me thought myself capable of that...how could I be with you?”  


“You went back to Danarius though, when it came down to it,” she said softly. “Which didn’t surprise me at all. I have always known I could trust you, Fenris.”  


“Varric said that too,” he replied. “But I was frightened, Hawke.” He shook his head. “I was a coward. If I could go back, I would stay. Tell you how I felt.”  


She cocked her head to the side, and he saw the familiar glimmer of humor lurking in her eyes. “What would you have said?” she asked, all wide-eyed innocence.   


The words leapt from his heart to his lips before he even needed to think about them. “Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you,” he breathed, looking into her eyes.   


“Oh, I don’t know,” she teased and suddenly it was as though she’d finally escaped one of his sparring holds and was crowing about it and everything was back to normal. “This might be fun to hold over you for a little bit longer.”  


He grinned at her, scarcely able to believe that after all the time, all of the heartbreak, that things might actually be all right.  


He pressed her flush against him, putting his lips close to her ear. “If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side,” he said, and then he kissed her. She moaned into the kiss, her arms wrapping around him and pulling him tightly against her. She wrapped her leg around him and he felt a thrill run down his spine. He broke the kiss to lay a trail of kisses from her lips to her earlobe, then down her neck to her collarbone. Every time his lips met her soft skin he felt the need within him build. It had been _years_ and they had been through so much in the intervening time. He wanted her desperately. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, giving her collarbone and open-mouthed kiss.   


She arched into him, her lovely lips curled into a smile. “Hush, you.”  


He shook his head, kissing from one side of her collarbone to the other before dragging his tongue up her neck. “No,” he replied, nipping at her earlobe. “You are beautiful, Hawke. And kind, and clever, and strong, and the _only_ woman in all of Thedas for me.”  


Her lips trembled as she looked down at him and he kissed her hard, pouring all of his need and love into it. “You are my heart,” he continued, rubbing his nose against hers.   


“Kadan,” she whispered. “Always.” Her fingernails trailed through his hair and down his neck, making him shiver. “It feels so good to have your body against mine,” she said quietly.   


He nodded. “Though I think that it could feel better,” he murmured.  


She raised an eyebrow. “How’s that?”  


He kissed down her neck, between her breasts, and down over her stomach, taking hold of her smalls. “I should like to feel all of you, Hawke,” he said.  


She had begun to breathe more quickly and she smiled at him and nodded. “Yes please.”  


He returned the smile and gently pulled her smalls off, groaning at the sight of her naked before him. Her breasts rose and fell with her breath, and the silver of the wolf necklace stood out against her dark skin. Though he still felt the twinge of nervousness, he rose from the bed and shucked his own trousers and smalls before crawling back in next to her. He took her into his arms, kissing her deeply and luxuriating in the feeling of her soft skin against his. He stroked her back wonderingly. How had he ever let her go?  


Her gentle hands were conducting their own exploration of his body, traveling up and down his back and sides. “Is this all right?” she murmured against his lips.   


“Yes,” he whispered, pulling her more firmly against himself and taking hold of her thigh. He pulled it up over his hip, moaning at the feeling of her wet heat against him. “Already?” he teased, reaching back to cup her ass.  


“Mmm,” she replied, rocking her hips. “Are you complaining?”  


He nuzzled into her neck. “Not in the least,” he said softly. “In fact, I plan to take full advantage of it.”  


She gave him a sultry smile. “Oh, please take advantage of me.”  


He growled and rolled her onto her back, kissing her soundly.   


“That’s a good start,” she teased, stroking her nails down his spine and making him shiver.   


“How about this?” he murmured, kissing down her jaw and to her neck. He licked the juncture of her neck and shoulder, then gave it a tender nip. She moaned quietly and moved beneath him, a smile on her face.   


“Oh, that’s very good,” she replied a little breathlessly. “But are you sure, love? We don’t have to-”  


Fenris took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking it hard by way of response. Her back bowed off the bed, her hands sinking into his hair as she let out a little cry of pleasure. He palmed her other breast, rubbing her nipple with his thumb as he sucked on her hungrily. He took his time sucking and licking before letting her nipple pop from his mouth. He blew on it gently, smiling at her groan of need and looking up at her. “I apologize for interrupting,” he said with a smile. “Were you saying something?”  


She laughed, but there was hunger in her eyes. “Fenris, I just need you to be sure. I’m in no hurry-”  


“And if I am?” he replied, leaning over to suck her other nipple into his mouth. He adored her for her caution, but the truth was, the moment he had woken up with her breasts against him, he’d felt his need for her stir. Touching her was only making him want her more.  


She moaned, but shook her head. “Fenris?”  


He reluctantly let go of her nipple and slid back up her body, leaning his forehead against hers. “I am well, Hawke,” he said quietly. He looked down into her eyes, suddenly worried. “But you are not," he realized, his stomach sinking. “What is it, Kadan?” he asked. "There is nothing you cannot say to me."  


She was quiet for a moment before meeting his eyes. “I-I just don’t want to lose you again,” she answered finally.  


He slid off of her body so that he could take her into his arms, clutching her to himself tightly as sorrow and shame bubbled up within him. “Saoirse,” he murmured into her ear. “I am sorry.”  


She shook her head. “Fenris, the last time we...we…” She pulled back and looked at him, her wolf’s eyes piercing his, despite the tears that had made them start to shine. “Fenris, your cum was still inside me when you just _left_. I’ve never been hurt like that in my life!” She was breathing faster now and it broke his heart to see the pain she obviously still carried. Pain that _he_ had caused her. “You have to _swear_ to me that it won’t be like that again. You asked me to forgive you and I _do_ , but I-I’m scared. If that happens again, it will completely break my heart and I don’t think I’ll even be able to look at you ever again. I would rather wait if you can’t promise me that you won’t leave again. I would rather _never_ lie with you again than lose you.”  


“Saoirse,” Fenris whispered, putting his fingertips under her chin and tilting her head up so that he could look into her eyes. “My heart, I do not have words for how deeply I regret my actions after our first night together.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “It was the most perfect night of my life and I ruined it with my cowardice. I almost lost you forever because of my actions. I swear to you, that will _never_ happen again.” He kissed her lips and then pulled back to look at her again. “I will _never_ leave you again.”  


The tears had begun to trickle down her lovely face and she let out a little sniffle that broke his heart.  


“I’m yours, Hawke,” he said, desperate to make her feel as safe as she made him feel. “Forever.”  


She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m yours, Fenris,” she replied. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think that I don’t trust you or anything. I just-”  


“I hurt you badly that night,” Fenris said. “I cannot blame you for being cautious. But I am not that man any longer. I am free.”  


She nodded and kissed him deeply, pressing her body against him and stroking the nape of his neck with her fingernails.   


“If you like,” Fenris murmured against her lips. “I can try to find a way to make it up to you.”  


She giggled and raised an eyebrow, some of the tension beginning to drain out of her face. “Is that so? And how might you do that?”  


He kissed her hard, pressing his tongue into her mouth and cupping her ass to pull her against him tightly. She moaned, rocking against him. He left her lips to kiss her cheeks and around to her ear, nuzzling her and gently licking the outer shell of her ear. She gasped softly. “I am yours,” he whispered. “Forever, Kadan.”  


She nodded, stroking one of her hands through his hair. “Forever,” she agreed. She let out the most delicious gasp as he worked his way down, licking and nipping his way down her neck to her collarbone. He was slow this time, taking his time as he kissed and licked. By the time he reached her breasts, she was whispering his name and arching into him.   


He pressed a kiss first to one, then the other, before gently sucking her nipple into his mouth. He palmed her other breast and gave the nipple gentle pinch before stroking his thumb over it in soft circles. She was moaning in earnest now, her body rocking beneath his.   


With some regret, he left her breasts behind to continue his journey, giving a gentle kiss between them before making his way further down her body. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured against her stomach, giving it a tender kiss. He gently ran his lips and tongue along her scar from the Arishok, another stark reminder of how close he had come to losing her forever.  


She stroked her fingers through his hair, shaking her head and he nipped just below her belly button, making her gasp. “You are,” he growled. “You are lovely and I want you so much I feel as though I might go mad.”  


“I want you too,” she whispered. “Fuck, do I want you!”  


“Mmmm, what is it you want?” he asked, kissing lower.   


“That’s a good start,” she said breathlessly.   


“What about this?” Fenris asked, sliding between her legs and gently nudging them apart.  


“Even-even better,” she breathed.   


Fenris smiled and kissed the top of her right thigh, slowly working his way in. He glanced up and saw that she was watching him, a soft smile on her face. He planted another kiss, moving closer to her center and not breaking eye contact. He smiled up at her. “Zevriel pressed his lips," he paused, to kiss her thigh again. "To the chocolate skin of Esmerelda’s inner thigh," another kiss. "Drawn ever upwards by the scent of her desire,” He kissed Hawke’s inner thigh harder this time, gently sucking on her soft skin as he stroked her other thigh with his fingertips.   


She giggled, shaking her head even as her hips moved with his touch. “Sweet Maker, you memorized that?”  


“It made an impression,” he said. “As did you.” He pressed a gentle kiss to the neat triangle of hair and Hawke let out a moan that sounded almost pained.  


“Fuck,” she whispered. “Oh, fuck.”  


“Shall I take your pearl into my mouth and draw you to your joyous end?” Fenris teased, kissing slightly lower.  


Hawke’s breathing was ragged, but she was smiling. “Festis bei umo canavarum,” she said.   


_The warmth of blood spraying on his face, the shock in her lovely eyes as the life drained out of her, the awful sound her body made as it slumped to the floor. If it weren’t for me, she would still be alive. I will never hold her again, touch her again, hear her voice again because she is-_  


“Fenris?”  


He looked up at her, struggling to get words out through the sudden tightness in his throat. “Never again,” he promised, his voice hoarse.  


“Oh love,” she said, her voice thick with consternation. “I didn’t mean-”  


“I know,” he said, reaching up and taking her hand. “I know.” He took a deep breath and met her eyes. “Are you still all right?”  


She nodded, squeezing his hand. “You?”  


He took another deep breath, grounding himself before he smiled up at her. “I will be better in a moment,” he said and then dragged his tongue down her slit.   


Hawke cried out, arching up off of the bed and squeezing his hand as he dipped his tongue into her, groaning at how wet she was. Her strong thighs shook on either side of his head and she wailed when he pressed his tongue to her clit and began to lick and suck. He was relentless as he licked her, wanting nothing more than to send her over the edge. He would draw it out another time, but right then all he wanted was to make her feel good. He wanted to show them both that they were alive and together and _free_.  


He slid his free hand up and gently slid two fingers inside her, crooking them towards himself as she moaned and rocked into his touch.   


“Fenris!” she whimpered, her hand squeezing his tighter. “Oh, fuck, Fenris! Please-please don’t stop!”  


He growled. He had no intention of stopping. Instead he quickened his pace, grinding the flat of his tongue into her clit as he eased his fingers in and out. He felt little tremors going through her body, and he knew that she was close.   


“Fenris! I’m going to-oh fuck, FUCK!” She went suddenly still and then began to buck and thrash beneath him screaming his name. He didn’t release her, even when she whimpered, but he could see that she was smiling and he wanted desperately for her to cum again. He licked her a little more gently for a moment, releasing her hand so that he could reach up and squeeze her breast. She moaned and put her hand over his, squeezing as he began to lick her faster again. One of her legs draped over his back, pulling him closer as he drove her towards the precipice once more.   


“Please!” she moaned, rocking her hips. He growled against her and slid his arm under her thigh so that he could take hold of her hip and hold her down.   


“Fenris! Oh, sweet Maker I-” She froze for a second, then went over the edge, moaning incoherently. He licked her until she was twitching and begging him to stop before he kissed her inner thigh and slid up her body. He wiped his face on his shirt and then leaned in and kissed her lips.   


Her eyes were shut and she was breathing hard, and at the touch of his lips her eyes fluttered open. Her pupils were huge and there was such a look of bliss on her face that it warmed him all the way through.  


“Fuck,” she whispered, stroking his hair off of his forehead. “Fenris, that was... _fuck_.”  


He smiled down at her and leaned in to kiss her shoulder. “You taste as good as I remember,” he whispered in her ear.   


She moaned and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down on top of her.   


“You’re so hard,” she said against his lips.   


“Mmmhm,” he replied, reaching down to squeeze her breast. “I woke up wanting you,” he said simply. “Tasting you has only made me want to fuck you more.”  


She gasped, her lovely eyes widening. “Fenris!”  


“I _am_ sorry,” he murmured into the crook of her neck. “What was I thinking, using such language with a lady.”  


She snorted. “What if I said that feeling your tongue on my clit has only made me want you to fuck me more?”  


He growled into her neck and heard her breathless giggle.  


“I haven’t made you cum though,” she said.  


“I doubt very sincerely that that will prove an issue,” he said wryly. “I have not since our night together.”  


“What?” she breathed, stroking his hair.  


He pulled back slightly and rested his head on his hand, his elbow next to her head. He gave a little shrug. “I could not touch myself without you there,” he admitted. “I tried a few times. But it always ended in fear and frustration.”  


Her hand slid down and caressed his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.  


“It is not your fault,” he said. “It was not just the fear, if I am honest.”  


“What was it?” she asked.  


He blushed. “You are the only person who makes me...like this,” he replied. “But it felt wrong to think of you that way, after what I had done. Like I was using you. I could not.”  


She brushed her nose against his. “I love you,” she whispered. “And I understand. I can’t honestly say that I never came thinking about you, but I tried not to, for similar reasons.”  


He cocked his head, puzzled. “But you were not-”  


“It felt wrong,” she said simply. She raised an eyebrow. “Of course, if you wanted to use me now, I would have no complaints.”  


“I think that I would enjoy that,” he said, pitching his voice low. "Though first, I have a confession," he said. 

"What's that?" Hawke asked, her glorious eyes bright. 

Fenris kissed her lips and then looked down at her. “Saoirse, after all that we have been through, I feel I _should_ want to make love to you tenderly and slowly.”  


“But you don’t want to make love to me, do you?” she replied, the challenging expression from the other day on her face once more.  


“Later,” he growled. “Right now, Saoirse I wish to take you. To _fuck_ you. To prove to myself, to you, that I am a free man who deserves such a fierce, lovely partner.” He realized as his throat grew sore and his eyes began to burn that tears were trickling down his face. He leaned into her touch when she wiped them away. “And I want you to feel sure of me once again. I _need_ you to feel sure of me again. I need you to know that we can be joined in that way and I will never again leave. I need us to be whole again.”  


She kissed him deeply, hugging him to her with her not-inconsiderable strength. Her eyes were shiny when they broke the kiss. “I’m yours,” she said with a little smile. Her eyes grew harder and her smile took on an edge. “So why don’t you fucking take me then?”  


“Are you sure?” he asked, struggling to maintain control over himself. He was shaking with his need for her and he knew from the curve of her lips that she felt it.  


“Leave me full of cum again and I swear I’ll light you on fire,” she said in a low growl. “But otherwise, yes. I need you just as badly, Fenris.” She lifted her chin, her golden eyes wild. “We can make love later. Right now, I need you to _fuck_ me.”  


He groaned at her words and slid between her legs, gasping as she parted them for him. He looked down into her glorious eyes. “I love you,” he whispered. Then, he plunged into her, filling her with one, long stroke.  


She cried out his name, digging her nails into his back as she rocked to meet him. “Oh fuck, oh Maker, Fenris you feel so fucking good!”  


He kissed her, nodding his head as he struggled to keep control of himself. His body was shaking hard as he fought the urge to thrust recklessly into her.  


“What’s wrong?” she asked against his lips. “I can feel you holding back.”  


“I don’t...I don’t want to hurt you,” he managed to grit out.  


She gave a dark little chuckle and took his cheeks in her hands, making him look at her. He gasped at the look that he saw in her eyes. It was wild and feral and fierce and his cock throbbed at the sight of it. “I thought you said that you wanted to take me,” she snarled. She kissed his lips hard and then gave them a little nip. “I swear to you, I can take whatever you have to give.” She narrowed her eyes. “So give it to me.”  


He kissed her hard, pulling back until he had almost slid out of her before thrusting in as hard as he could. She growled into the kiss, wrapping her legs around his waist as he set a punishing pace. She was moaning his name as she rocked back into him, matching him thrust for thrust.  


“Hawke!” he groaned into her neck.  


“Harder!” she growled back. “I need it, Fenris! I need to feel you!”  


He shuddered and pulled back slightly to grab her right ankle. “As you wish,” he snarled, resting it on his shoulder before thrusting into her again. He watched as her breasts bounced with every thrust, loving the sight of his necklace between them. He felt a rush of possessiveness so intense that he snarled out loud as he turned his head and nipped the inside of her calf.  


Her eyes rolled back in her head and she smiled the same wild smile he saw sometimes on the battlefield.  


“Better?” he asked mildly, grinning down at her.  


She laughed and nodded, though the sound quickly turned into a moan as he leaned in to kiss her, the angle allowing him to sink deeper into her wet heat. He didn’t have time to gloat, however, as she tightened around him.  


“Better?” she teased back.  


He moaned against her lips, feeling his balls tighten. He knew that he wasn’t going to last much longer at that pace, but as he looked into her eyes, he knew it didn’t matter.  


“Saoirse, I’m close!” he groaned, loving the sound of their bodies coming together as he thrust harder. “You’re so tight, Kadan. So wet. It feels-” she tightened around him again and the motion of his hips stuttered as a wave of pleasure crashed over him.  


“Sorry,” she said with a sassy little smile.  


He growled at her, reaching down to grasp her hip. “Liar,” he grunted.  


“You caught me,” she replied. She reached up and clutched at his shoulder, arching her back as he thrust into her. Her golden eyes searched his. “I’ve got you,” she said with sudden sweetness that took his breath away. “You are a free man, Fenris. And I am yours, and always will be.”  


“Saoirse!” he cried out, desperately reaching out to take her hand. He felt her warm fingers twine through his and squeezed.  


“Cum in me, Fenris,” she whispered. “I’m yours, Kadan. Claim me! Fill me!”  


Her words sent him over the edge and with a wild yell he began to cum, pounding into her. The pleasure expanded within him, eclipsing everything else and for his life he couldn’t have said how long he bucked into her, filling her with his seed. When he finally came back to himself he was draped over her panting and trembling.  


“You ok?” she asked quietly, stroking his hair.  


He nodded and kissed her deeply. “My heart,” he murmured. He gave a breathless little laugh, loving the way his heart pounded in his chest. “I am sorry that I did not last, you just felt so...incredible.”  


“Mmmm,” Hawke replied, purposely tightening around him again with a smile. "So did you."  


He shuddered hard, feeling his cock give a little twitch. “I need a moment,” he chuckled. He grew serious as he looked down at her. “Are you all right?” he asked.  


She hugged him. “I mean, I could go again,” she teased. Her lovely eyes found his. “But yes, I’m fine, Fenris. As long as you don’t go anywhere.”  


He nestled into her neck, feeling the chain of her necklace against his nose. “Never,” he promised.  


They lay like that for a long time before Hawke playfully nudged him off of her. “You’re all sweaty,” she teased as he rolled to the side.  


“Hmmm, I wonder why that is?” Fenris replied. He couldn’t help but look as he slid out of her and the sight of his cum beginning to drip from her sent a thrill through his body and down to his cock. He let out a soft sound of need and saw her eyebrow raise.  


“What is it?” she asked with a languid stretch.  


Fenris blushed all the way to his ears. What if his thoughts rubbed her the wrong the way? "I am hesitant to say," he replied. 

"There's nothing you can't say to me," she said with a soft smile. 

"Very well," he said, his heart beating a little faster. "I enjoy seeing," he swallowed hard. "I enjoy seeing my cum dripping from you, Saoirse." 

She gasped, but there was a smile on her face. "I wasn't expecting that!" she said, her eyes wide. 

"I'm sorry-" 

"Don't be," she interrupted, grinning. She parted her legs and slid her hand down her body, dipping a finger between her folds. She let out a soft moan. "What do you like about it?" she asked. "What does it make you feel?" 

"Possessive," he said immediately, then found himself blushing again. "Though that is nothing new." 

She blushed. "You weren't though, when it mattered," she said quietly. "So I can't say I mind." She let out another moan. "What else?" 

"Feral," he continued, emboldened by her words and the obvious pleasure she took in his feelings. "Insatiable." He leaned in and kissed the necklace that lay between her breasts. "I am not accustomed to feeling so...out of control." He ran his fingertips over her body, letting his hand slide down to join hers. He gently nudged her hand out of the way as he took over stroking her, leaning down to suck on her nipple. He moaned around it, the feeling of their slickness making his spent cock jerk. She arched into his touch, gasping his name. He wasted no time driving her over the edge, loving how she cried out when she came. She looked so lovely with her back arching off the bed and an expression of utter bliss on her face. He kissed her as she came down. "I could watch you all day," he murmured 

She was smiling and breathing hard. "I-I can't say that I'd mind," she panted. 

He chuckled and rubbed his nose against hers. “I am yours, Hawke,” he whispered. “I always will be. I always would have been, even if you had found someone else.”  


“I know," she breathed, cupping his cheek. "And I love you for it." She smiled up at him. "And a variety of another reasons." She grew serious. "The same goes for you, I hope you know. I only wanted you to be happy." 

"I know," he said. "But I am happy. Exactly like this. I love you, Saoirse." 

"It can't be exactly like this all the time," Hawke said sadly. 

He looked down at her, worried. "Hawke-" 

"Aveline will kill us both if we just stroll around Kirkwall naked and fucking," Hawke said with mock seriousness. 

Fenris groaned, realizing he should have seen it coming. He let out a playful growl and jerked her against himself, kissing her deeply. She was smiling into the kiss and he knew he was as well. Her body felt so soft against him, so familiar, and yet it was the most electrifying thing to feel her again. “I am not sure that I will ever grow accustomed to having you in my arms again,” he whispered, caressing her cheek. She leaned into his touch, smiling up at him.  


“I’ve missed you so much,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. He hugged her back, his heart aching.   


“I’m sorry, Hawke,” he said quietly. “For the time we lost.”  


She shook her head and pressed her lips to his. “We have each other now,” she said. She gave him a sassy smile and slid her hand down his body, making him groan with need as she wrapped it around his cock. “Let’s not waste any time.”  


He rocked into her hand, pressing his forehead against hers as she stroked him. “Maker, Hawke,” he hissed as she tightened her hand and quickened her pace. It felt incredible to have her touch him and for a moment he allowed himself to be lost in the sensation. It took a great deal of effort for him to reach down and grab her wrist but he couldn’t help but grin at the disappointed sound she made when he stopped her.  


“Don’t you want me?” she asked him with such wide eyed innocence he knew that she was bluffing.   


“Can there be any doubt?” he asked, glancing down at where his cock was leaking against her belly.  


“Well, if you don’t want me to touch you-” any further comment she might have made disappeared into a squeak of surprise as he rolled her so that her back was to him. He pulled her leg up over his thigh. “Perhaps I will not let you because I wish to touch you some more,” he murmured into her ear. He smiled to himself as he felt her shiver. He stroked his hands over her, taking his time touching her breasts, stomach, sides, and thighs. He luxuriated in every sound that she made as he pressed his lips to her neck and shoulder. “Saoirse, you feel so good. I love how your body moves when I touch you. I love the sounds that you make.”  


She let out a little whimper as he slid his hand down her belly and between her legs. “Shall I continue?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice even as he dipped his finger into the well of wetness that waited for him.   


“Please-” she whimpered.  


“Please what?” he murmured into her ear.   


“Take me!” she gasped.  


He couldn’t deny her and his cock was more than ready to return to her loving embrace. He pressed the head against her wet entrance and groaned with need when she tightened her leg around his thigh and eased herself down around him. They moaned together and he pressed his lips just behind her ear. “My heart,” he whispered. “Oh my heart, you feel so good!”  


“So-so do you, love!” she gasped. She let out a groan when he began to circle her clit with his middle finger and he pressed kisses to her ear, neck, and shoulder while he stroked her. He could feel her body growing tenser and tenser as he stroked her and loved how she arched her back, pressing her breast more firmly into his hand. Then suddenly she grew still, her breaths coming in rapid pants.   


“Let it go, Hawke,” he whispered in her ear. “Please, allow me to give you this. Cum for me, Kadan, cum with me deep inside you!”  


“No fair,” she whimpered, smiling. “You know what your voice does to me.”  


“Then cum,” he said simply. "For me."  


She shuddered and clutched at his arm and then suddenly went utterly rigid, then she began to buck and thrash, screaming his name. He continued touching her through it, almost lost in the sensation of her clenching around him. It was so hot and wet and _good_ and all he wanted was to stay there in that moment with her for the rest of his life. He followed her over the edge after only a moment, crying out her name. He came back to himself when she whispered his name and turned her head to catch his lips with hers.  


“Maker,” she breathed.  


“Just Fenris will do,” he replied.  


She elbowed him in the stomach, giggling, and he found himself laughing as well.  


“That was a good start,” she said, reaching her hand back to stroke through his hair.  


“I am pleased to hear it,” he said, tightening his arms around her. “If you give me some time, I would be happy to make another attempt.” He moaned as she moved and let him slide out of her so that she could cuddle up against his side, nestling under his neck.  


“We should probably get cleaned up first,” she murmured, her breath fluttering against his skin. “Want to take a bath?”  


He shivered, his heart suddenly filling with joy. It was such a simple, domestic thing, but it was one that only a few weeks ago he thought was lost to him forever. He drew her forward into a deep kiss before whispering in her ear: “Only if you let me wash your hair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter! I know that I changed up the "make-up" conversation, but I wanted Fenris and Saoirse to get a chance to talk through some of the things that they have previously. I also wanted to take a moment to address the feelings I can only imagine that Hawke had after Fenris left at pretty much the worst possible time. The next few chapters will be pretty fluffy/smutty because these guys need a hot minute to just be.
> 
> Honestly... _I_ need a hot minute to just be. Y'all may have guessed from how Saoirse is described, but I myself am a woman of color and the past few weeks have been more brutal than usual for a POC in the US. After doing my best to make our world better, it's been nice to escape into the DA world, especially Kirkwall where I feel most at home. 
> 
> I hope that this brightens your day! Be well and safe, everyone! All the love. I shall see you all next Monday for what's shaping up to be another steamy chapter. <3


	28. Returning the Favor *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Hawke continue to explore their intimacy. The two also have an important conversation in a slightly...unconventional way.

It took a few minutes for them to extricate themselves from each other, but when they finally did Fenris found himself helplessly watching her as she rose and stretched. He loved the gentle curves of her body and the strength he could see in her as her muscles caught the sunlight. She caught him looking and raised an eyebrow.   


“See something you like?” she teased, putting her hands on her hips.  


He shook his head, rising and crossing to her. “No,” he murmured. “But I see many things that I love.”  


She hugged him, blushing. “You’re sweet,” she said quietly. “I’m just me.”   


“I should hope so,” he replied, rubbing his nose against hers. “Otherwise, who did I just fuck silly?”  


She giggled and rolled her eyes. “You have been spending too much time with Varric,” she said. “Now we have a funny dwarf _and_ a funny elf.”  


“If you would not mind informing Varric that I am funny,” Fenris said with a wry smile. “Perhaps he will stop calling me ‘Broody’.”  


“I doubt it,” Hawke said with mock seriousness. “You know how Varric is with his nicknames.” She glanced up at him. “Besides, I don’t think you really mind.”  


“Broody is not so bad,” Fenris admitted. “I prefer that to ‘angsty porcupine’.”  


She giggled and kissed his lips. “Come on, you. I’m going to ask Orana to draw us a bath.” She gave him a shy look. “Would you like to stretch while we wait? I know for a fact that you haven’t yet this morning.”  


“Very well,” Fenris replied. They had stretched together enough in the past few weeks that he had gotten past his initial self-consciousness. He caught her wrist as she moved towards the door. “Under one condition,” he said.  


Hawke raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?” she replied.  


Fenris felt a flutter of nerves in his belly and hoped that he wasn’t pushing too far. “We do it like this,” he said, gesturing down at himself.   


Her eyes widened. “Naked stretching?” she said, her cheeks coloring. “Goodness, Fenris, you really are feeling better. That sounds like something from one of Isabela’s books.”  


“We do not have to,” he hurried to add. “I just...like seeing you,” he said.   


She grinned at him over her shoulder as she hurried to the door and called for Orana. The two women spoke before Hawke came and rejoined him in the center of the room. She took a deep breath and then shifted so that she was standing in the opening stance of Greet the Sun. She held her palms together at the level of her chest, her feet were shoulder-width apart, her shoulders were back and her chin was up. The morning sun caught her golden eyes as she smiled at him, one eyebrow raised. “Well, are you going to join me?”  


Fenris went to stand a few feet away from her and took up the same position. Then the two of them began to move, slowly working their way through the simple routine. Hawke had joined him often enough to be confident in going through the poses without looking at him. He was just as glad, because it meant that he got to watch her.   


She moved with a warrior’s surety, her eyes closed as she concentrated. The sunlight made her brown skin glow and he caught his breath at the way her nipples, hardened by the cool air in the room, jutted out when she arched her back. He loved how the muscles of her thighs shifted beneath her skin as she smoothly shifted to the next stance. She looked like some sort of ancient ethereal being, especially in the golden light of the sun.   


“Having fun?” she asked, glancing over at him and catching him staring.   


He abandoned the pretense of his own stretching and went to her, taking her into his arms. “You are so lovely,” he said, kissing her softly. “I love your strength, Saoirse. I love watching you move. I am the luckiest man in all of Thedas and you shall never convince me of otherwise.”   


She blushed and lifted her face to his. “You’re sweet,” she said, brushing her lips against his.  


“Not entirely,” he replied, sliding his hands down her back and cupping her ass. He pulled her against himself so she could feel how hard watching her had made him. She made a happy sound and kissed him, her lips opening in a soft moan as he squeezed her ass. The sound galvanized him and he picked her up, pleased at how effortless it was now and walked her back to the wall next to the door. 

“If I were only sweet, the way your breasts looked as you stretched would not have made me hard.”  


“Mmmm,” she murmured, wrapping her legs around his waist. “And how did they look?”  


He shoved her against the wall, cupping one of her breasts in his hand and pinching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Delicious,” he growled, moaning as his cock brushed against her entrance.   


She reached down between them, adjusting the position of his cock so that he could enter her. She was so wet that he slid in easily, moaning as he pressed her up against the wall.   


“Fenris,” she breathed, arching her back and clenching around him.   


“Saoirse,” he moaned back, nuzzling her neck and giving it a tender nip. “You were made for me.”  


She smiled and cupped his cheek. “You were for me,” she said.  


He licked the juncture of her neck and shoulder and then bit down, timing it along with a deep thrust into her. She cried out, one of her hands sliding up into his hair while the other dug into his shoulder.   


“I-I’m not too heavy, am I?” she gasped as he thrust in and out. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”  


He pulled back to look at her, allowing himself what he fancied was a rakish smile. “Does it _seem_ like you are too heavy?” he growled, bending his knees and snapping his hips as hard as he could.  


She moaned his name, throwing her head back and baring her throat to him. He wasted no time sucking and licking a trail down to her collarbone, grunting as she clenched around him.   


“I am not going to last long,” he panted. “You feel so good, Hawke.”  


She smiled and he felt her heels press into his lower back. “Cum in me, then,” she moaned, tightening around him.   


“But you-”  


“I’m sure you’ll get me later,” she teased. “If I know you.”  


“Better than anyone,” he said, kissing her hard as his body began to shudder. He came, bending her in half against the wall and moaning her name into the soft skin of her neck. He held her for a moment, shuddering through his aftershocks as she stroked his hair. He lifted her gently and slid out of her with a grunt, laughing softly when she stabilized him by pulling him in for a hug.   


“You’re insatiable,” she murmured, kissing his cheek.   


He shuddered, feeling his cock leaking against the soft skin of her belly. “I have a lot of time to make up for,” he said with a sheepish smile. “Though I can give you a break, if you prefer.”  


She brushed her warm fingertips over his softening cock and brought them to her lips. He watched, enraptured, as she licked them clean. “Don’t you dare.”  


He groaned her name as he clutched her to himself, kissing her deeply. Her hips moved against him, one of her strong legs wrapping around his thigh so that he could feel the wetness between her legs. He shuddered, knowing that the wetness was a mixture of both of them, and felt his cock give a tired twitch. “Maker, Saoirse,” he whispered.  


“Mmmmm,” she said quietly. They both jumped when Orana knocked on the door.  


“Your bath is ready, Mistress,” Orana said. “Do you need anything else? Shall I ask Mrs. Marsh to make breakfast?” Fenris could hear the smile in her voice. “Or should I ask her to wait?”  


“Ask her to wait, if you don’t mind, Orana,” Hawke said, grinning.   


“Of course, Mistress,” Orana said. “Just ring when you are ready.”  


They grinned at each other and Hawke crossed to her wardrobe, pulling out a thin, silky dressing gown and slipping into it. She glanced back at Fenris, worry written on her face. “I have one for you,” she said softly. “But we can do a blanket, if you’d rather.”  


He went to her and kissed her cheek. “Can I see it?”  


She pulled out a robe like the one she was wearing. It was black and made of a fabric that caught on the roughness of his fingers and looked as though it would go down to his calves. “I should like to try,” he said.  


Hawke held the robe for him and he slipped into it and sighed as the fabric slithered over his skin. It felt nothing like what he’d worn aboard the Victory and he tied it around his waist so that poor Orana wouldn’t get an eyeful. He took a moment, closing his eyes.  


“How does it feel?” she asked quietly. “Are you all right?”  


He reached for her and pulled her against him. She slid her arms around his neck and he stroked his hands up and down the smooth fabric of her robe. “You feel good,” he said quietly. “This feels good.”  


She smiled up at him. “You look like a real ‘Lord of the Manor’,” she teased gently, her golden eyes searching his.   


He kissed her and then leaned his forehead against hers. “Does that make you my lady?” he asked.   


She snorted. “I don’t think anyone would call me a lady,” she said with a wry smile.   


“More the fools them,” he said. He glanced at the mirror and caught a glimpse of himself. _Don’t you look_ \--No. He was a free man. He was a free man with a beautiful woman who wanted to go and get into the bath with him.  


“Are you sure you’re all right?” she said, watching him closely.   


“I will be,” he said. “I do not feel as I did last time, and that is progress.”  


She smiled uncertainly up at him. “All right, love. But you promise you will tell me if you aren’t?”  


“Yes,” he said. “I promise.” He took her hand. “Now let us go and bathe.” He led her down to the bathing chamber, noting how Orana and the other servants were conspicuously absent. With every step some of the heaviness left him. He did not feel like a slave walking with her. He felt like a man, perhaps he would not have gone so far as to call himself the “Lord of the Manor”, but certainly not a slave. 

Still, he sighed with relief when they entered the bathing chamber and she locked the door behind them. The massive copper tub steamed before them, smelling of juniper.   


Before Hawke could speak, Fenris pulled her against him, nuzzling the back of her neck as he reached down to untie her robe.  


“Fenris,” she whispered.   


“Yes?” he replied, pressing his lips behind her ear.   


She let out a soft little whimper when he slid the robe off her shoulders and reached up to cup both of her breasts. He stroked her nipples with his thumbs, loving how she arched her back and slid one of her hands up into his hair. “We aren’t going to get clean if you keep that up,” she said quietly.  


He gave her breasts a gentle squeeze and let her go, smiling down at her when she turned around and took hold of the tie of his robe. She undid it, her eyes fixed on his as she did. “Are you all right?” she asked.   


He nodded, shivering as she slid it off and let it fall in a puddle on the floor. He squeezed her hands and then climbed into the tub, leaning against the back wall. He motioned for her to join him and she held up a finger, picking their robes up and hanging them on the door. She took her time sauntering over to the tub, her eyes fixed on his, a sassy smile on her lips.   


“You are trying to tempt me,” he said with a smile as she leaned over the tub, resting her hands on its high sides so that her breasts swayed in front of him.   


“Is it working?” she asked.   


He gestured down at his hard cock and when she was focused on looking at it, leaned forward to suck one of her nipples into his mouth. She moaned, throwing her head back with a breathless laugh. 

He let her nipple pop out of his mouth with an obscene sound and grinned up at her.   


“Now who’s being tempting?” she teased.   


“I would call it a draw,” he said, motioning once more for her to join him. She wasted no time climbing into the tub, sighing with joy when she leaned back against him. He nuzzled into her hair. “I would like to wash your hair, Hawke.” He nipped behind her ears, feeling his lips curl into a smile. “As well as anything else that needs attention.”  


Even in the heat of the water, he felt her shiver. “I’m yours,” she said, nuzzling under his neck. “I just want to feel your hands on me.”  


“I can do that,” he said. He picked up a washcloth from the little shelf that hung off the tub and selected the jar of soap that smelled the most like her. He started with her back, taking his time as much as he had when he was massaging her. He loved the soft sounds of pleasure that she made as he scrubbed her neck and shoulders, then down her arms and back. He dipped the cloth into the water and wrung it out over the bubbles, washing them away and pressing his lips to the newly clean skin. He added more soap to the washcloth and pulled her back against himself, letting her feel his hardness in the small of her back. She sighed happily as he began to wash the front of her body, moving with what he hoped was agonizing slowness down until finally he took her breasts into his hands. He was as thorough there as he had been everywhere else, feeling his desire for her building with every soft moan and gasp. She let out the most delicious shuddering breath when he brushed the rough fabric of the wash cloth over her nipples and he smiled to himself and kissed just behind her ear.  


“May I wash your hair?” he asked. “I know that you do not wash it as often as I do, but I should like to learn.”  


“Mmmhm,” she replied dreamily. “I’ll even teach you how I wrap it at night, if you like.”  


He smiled and kissed her cheek. “Absolutely,” he said.  


She leaned forward and unceremoniously dunked her head under the water, coming up with a splutter and selecting one of the jars. She passed it back to him. “Just a little of this,” she said. “Isabela introduced me to it. Apparently Rivaini women use it. It is meant to clean thick hair like mine without drying it out. Give me your hand.” He held it out and she put a dollop about the size of a cherry into his hand. “They always say you only need about a copper coin sized amount,” she said with mock irritation. “That’s not even enough for my hair as it is now, let alone when I was younger and it was long.”  


“I cannot imagine you with long hair,” Fenris said, beginning to work the thick, creamy substance through her curls. He marvelled as he did at how long her apparently short hair actually was. When he stretched a curl it was easy as long as his middle finger. “Though apparently it has always been longer than I realized.”  


She chuckled. “It’s a pain in the ass,” she said, tilting her head into his touch. “Even this length. I want to shave it all off again.”  


“However you choose to wear it, I will always find you beautiful,” Fenris murmured as he combed his fingers through the thick curls. He chuckled and nuzzled into her neck. “How long do I leave this in?” he asked, continuing to stroke her hair. “Will it harm your hair if I leave it in while I wash your legs?”  


She shook her head and moved with a little reluctance when he bade her to turn around and lean against the other side of the tub, facing him. Any objections she might have had seemed to fade as he scrubbed her strong legs, even taking time to scrub and massage her feet. He was amused to discover that she was ticklish, though he was less amused to find out that he was as well when it was her turn to wash him.  


Still, he smiled at her as she cleaned him just as she had done a few weeks before, though there was definite fire in her eyes as she moved up his thighs that had not been there the last time. She scooted closer to him and washed his chest with her legs slung over his thighs and hips, tempting him as his hard cock brushed up against her. He groaned with need when she pressed her breasts against him “to wash his back” and he couldn’t help but lift her into his lap so he could kiss her deeply. She whimpered with need against his lips as he squeezed her ass, gasping into the kiss when his fingers brushed along its cleft. She rocked against him, her breasts slick with soap as they rubbed against his chest.   


“Shall we return to bed?,” Fenris asked, kissing the corner of her lips.  


“You know, a couple of weeks ago you were raring to get out of bed,” Hawke teased.   


“The circumstances of my time in bed have changed,” he retorted. “It is more...recreational now than medical.”  


“Recreational?” Hawke replied with a grin. “Is that what we’re calling it?”  


He chuckled. “I presume we need to rinse your hair first,” he said. “Or shall I just carry you off as you are?”  


“Compromise?” she replied. “Rinse, then carry me off?”  


“With pleasure,” Fenris said. He motioned for her to turn around in his lap, then leaned forward and picked up the little mortar that she’d used to rinse his hair. “Shall we begin?”  


“That will take you forever,” she protested as he pulled her back against his chest.   


“Did you have a previous engagement I was unaware of?” he replied against her ear.   


She turned and caught his lips with hers. “You don’t have to-”  


“But I want to,” he said. “If you will allow it.”  


She nodded, relaxing against him, and he spent a supremely relaxing quarter bell or so slowly rinsing the fruity mixture out of her hair. He pressed his lips to her curls when he was done and frowned. The scent was almost the one he associated with her hair, but not quite.   


“Did you change hair soap?” he asked, puzzled. “It does not smell quite-” he trailed off, realizing he sounded a little strange talking about how the scent of her hair was different.   


She smiled at him over her shoulder. “It’ll smell right once we put my hair lotion in,” she said quietly.   


He blushed and kissed her lips. “Speaking of which, we could do that now, if you like.”  


She nodded and rose, holding her hand out to him. He took it and rose, using her hand to pull her flush against him. “My beautiful Saoirse,” he said, loving how the water droplets caught the light from the lanterns and candles.   


She kissed him and together they clambered out of the massive tub and picked up thick towels to dry off with. They donned their robes again and Fenris drew a giggle from her by making good on his promise to carry her off. He swept her into his arms and carried her back to her room, where he noted with some amusement that Orana had been and gone. The sheets had been changed, the room was tidied, there was a steaming tray on the sideboard, and some of his clothes had been draped over Hawke’s desk chair.   


“That girl thinks of everything,” Hawke said appreciatively. “She’s a treasure.”  


“She is not the only one,” Fenris said, carrying her over to her bed. He tossed her down and she let out a little squeal, looking up at him wide-eyed.  


“Someone’s sure acting like the lord of the manor, now,” she teased, scooting back on the bed towards the pillows.  


He climbed onto the bed with her, stretching out on top of her. “If I am the lord of the manor,” he said, pitching his voice in the deep growl he knew made her melt. She stilled beneath him and he kissed her neck. “What does that make you?”  


“Definitely your mistress,” Hawke teased, draping her leg over the back of his thigh. “Perhaps the sexy housekeeper.”  


Her response startled a laugh out of him and he kissed her, shaking his head. “Not the answer I was going for,” he said, nipping her collarbone and pinning her arms over her head with one hand.   


“What were you going for?” Hawke asked, grinning up at him as she rocked her body beneath him. “The meek, demure wife who does her needlepoint while you go out and fight dragons?”   


“I would note that the only dragon fighting I have done is because you dragged me into it,” he said wryly, aware at the goosebumps that went up his arms hearing her refer to herself as his wife, in any capacity.   


“Is this more of you laying your claim, m’lord?” she continued to tease, licking his jaw and making him grunt with need.   


“And if it is?” he asked, releasing her wrists so that he could wrap both arms around her and roll so that she was on top of him. She made a happy sound, letting her knees fall to either side of his hips as she rubbed her nose against his. “Do you object to me laying claim, Saoirse?”  


“I’m wearing your necklace, aren’t I?” she asked him, sitting up so that she was straddling him with his cock nestled temptingly beneath her wet folds. She reached up and stroked her fingers over the little silver wolf, her eyes locked on his. “And I suppose someone had to make an honest woman of me eventually.” Her eyes widened as soon as the words left her mouth and her hand flew to her lips. 

“Maker! I didn’t mean to suggest-Fenris I-”  


“To suggest what?” he replied, his heart pounding as he looked up into her lovely golden eyes. “That I might like to marry you, Hawke? To truly make you my lady?”  


She was breathing quicker, her eyes very wide. “Yeah,” she whispered. “That.”  


He sat up so that he could wrap his arms around her with her facing him in his lap, acutely aware of the fact that he was blushing and his heart was beating very fast. In for a copper, in for a sovereign. “I am not suggesting that we run off to the chantry right this moment,” he said, smoothing his hands up and down her back. “But if I have learned anything in the past few years, Hawke, it is how precious the time we have is. I want you to know that, while I never imagined myself as a man who might marry...that changed when I fell in love with you.” He cupped her cheek, brushing away the tears that had started to trickle down before running his thumb over her lips. “Though I imagine ‘making an honest woman of you’ is a lost cause, I would like to marry you one day. To be bound together in that way, in the eyes of man and Maker, until we are called to his side.”  


She threw her arms around his neck, her strong legs tightening around him. “Fenris,” she whispered, laying a trail of kisses down his jaw to his lips. “Maker, you have a way with words when you want to.”  


“I have been spending too much time with the dwarf,” he growled with mock severity.   


She chuckled and pulled back, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. “Truly,” she said, caressing his cheek and sliding her hand up into his hair. “That was one of the most beautiful things anyone has ever said to me.”  


“But?” he said, his heart falling.   


She shook her head. “No buts,” she promised. One of her dark eyebrows arched. “Though I noticed there wasn’t a question in there.”  


He smiled at her, relief filling him. “I do not have a ring,” he said. “Is that not what the humans do when they get betrothed?”  


She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know,” she said, her lips curling into an inviting smile. “I have never been betrothed before.”  


“A fact I am glad of,” Fenris said, squeezing her ass and lifting her just slightly so that he could slip inside of her.   


She moaned, arching her back, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Why- Fuck, oh Maker, Fenris!”  


“The Guard Captain frowns on duels,” he grunted, rolling his hips so that he slid deep into her, his hands tightening on her ass.  


She laughed, the sound tapering into a soft moan when he sucked her nipple into his mouth. “Duels? Goodness.”  


“I will always fight for you, Hawke,” he growled, tightening his arms around her. “Every day, for the rest of my life. There is no cause more worthy to me.”  


“Oh love,” she murmured, stroking her fingertips through his hair and kissing him. “You know I will for you too, right?”  


“You have proven that beyond the shadow of a doubt,” he said. He kissed her desperately, fighting back the images of the last time she had fought for him. They were moving together faster and he clutched her to himself as though she might be taken away from him again. He could never let that happen. “Maker, Saoirse, my heart, you feel so good!”  


She nodded her head, the motion of her hips speeding up as he slid his hands down her back to cup her ass once more. He loved feeling it in his hands, loved how she moaned when he squeezed it and stroked his fingertips over the cleft of her ass.   


Her hands were gentle on his back and shoulders as they slowly built their pleasure together, taking their time despite the intense need. Fenris could feel his body aching for a release, and he knew from the soft little whimpers that escaped her lips with every thrust that she was needing it as well. He pulled her against himself more firmly so that her clit rubbed against him as they rocked together. 

She gasped at the sudden contact and arched her back and he accepted the invitation to lean down and suck first one nipple, then the other.   


“I’m close!” she whimpered, her hips moving in increasingly tight circles. “Fenris! I’m so close!”  


“Me too!” he growled, tightening his grip on her ass. “Hawke, my Hawke, my Saoirse!” He kissed her hard, then leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you,” he managed to moan.  


“I love you!” she gasped back, one of her hands sliding into his hair, pulling his head against hers harder. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Fenris-” she went abruptly silent and still, then wailed his name as her entire body began to shudder on top of him. Her breath came in ragged gasps as her pleasure overtook her, and the sight of her coming undone was enough to bring him along with her. He cried out her name as he came inside her, clutching him to her like a drowning man as the two of them rode out their pleasure together.   


“Fuck,” she panted against his lips, her warm little body shivering.   


“Already?” he teased, loving the way he felt her lips curl into a smile against his own. He smoothed his hands up and down her back. “Maker, Hawke,” he breathed. “I scarcely recognize myself with you.”  


She pulled back and looked into his eyes, the corners of hers creased just slightly. “Not in a bad way, I hope?” she asked, brushing his hair off of his forehead.   


He chuckled, shaking his head. “Saoirse, I went years without knowing the touch of another person before I met you. I never needed to lie with anyone before.” He leaned in to kiss her collarbone. 

“Now that I have you once more, I wonder if I will ever be able to go a single day without feeling you around me.”  


She shivered and it felt delicious around his cock, even as it had started to soften inside of her. “I am ok with that,” she said with a grin. “Maker knows that I need you every bit as badly.”  


He rubbed his nose against hers and they held each other for a long time before Fenris worked up the nerve to break the silence. “Saoirse?”  


“Mmmm?” she murmured sleepily, her head on his shoulder.   


“Hawke?”  


She leaned back with a sleepy grumble and looked into his eyes. “Fenris?”  


He took a deep breath. “When we are ready,” he said quietly. “Will you?”  


Her breath caught in her throat as she looked down at him wonderingly, her golden eyes beginning to shine.   


“I promise to do it properly when the time comes,” he hastened to add.  


“Not while you’re balls-deep in me, you mean?” she asked. The tears were rapidly trickling down her face, but she was smiling.  


“It might take some time for that to be the case,” he retorted. He looked up at her, growing serious. “I am asking in earnest, though, Hawke.” He brushed his lips over hers. “I will understand if you do not want to answer now. Or if you already know that you would rather things be as they are. Which is still better than I ever could have imagined,” he hurried to add. “I only-”  


“Yes, Fenris,” she said so softly he almost missed it.   


He blinked up at her, his eyes widening. “Yes?”  


She nodded, an adorable blush coloring her cheeks. “When we’re ready. Yes. Of course yes, you daft, angsty porcupine!”  


He growled and nipped at her neck. “I am not angsty!” he grumbled. “Particularly not right now.”  


“Is that so?”she breathed, tilting her head to the side to give him more access. “What are you now?”  


He pulled back to cup her cheek, looking deeply into her eyes. “Home,” he said softly. “Whole, at last. Happy.” He chuckled and kissed her softly. “Sated,” he added with a smile. “For the moment, anyway.”  


She melted against him, kissing him deeply and pulling him down on top of her. They lay that way for quite some time, enjoying the feeling of their bodies pressed together as they kissed. It was only later, when he was stroking his fingers through her hair, that he realized he had not made good on his promise to learn how to tie it up. She grinned at him when he asked, and quickly went and got a little cup of water and the jar that contained what she called her hair lotion. She dampened her hair and showed him how she worked the thick lotion into her curls before wrapping it in the red silk scarf. 

Then, she pulled off the scarf and made him tie it. It took a few attempts, but when he was done her hair was wrapped up behind layers of silk and his hands smelled like her hair.   


“Now your hair smells right,” he murmured as they lay back down together with her head on his chest.   


“I’m glad,” she said, smiling up at him. She sighed happily and traced her fingertips over his chest and stomach. “Fenris?”  


“Hmm?” he glanced down and saw her heart in her eyes.   


“I feel whole too,” she said softly, hugging him around the waist. “And home.” She giggled quietly. “And temporarily sated.”  


He kissed her, his whole body warming all the way through with joy. “What about happy?” he asked.   


She rolled backwards, pulling him along until he was stretched out on top of her. Her warm fingers trailed up and down his spine as she looked into his eyes. “The most happy,” she said.  


He kissed her, nodding. “The most happy,” he agreed. “I love you, Saoirse.”  


“I love you too, Fenris,” she breathed. He saw the quirk of her lips that told him that she was about to say something uniquely Hawke and she didn’t disappoint. “So…”  


“Yes, Hawke?” he said with resignation, resting his head on his hand and putting his elbow next to her head.  


“Does this make us...betrothed to be betrothed?” she asked.  


He groaned and nipped at her neck, which quickly turned to playful wrestling, which turned, with equal speed, to them discovering that they were not quite sated yet. It was only later, when they were, that he deigned to answer her. “As to your earlier question,” he panted, pulling the blankets up to cover them both. “I do not care what we call it, as long as it means that we are bound to each other.”  


“We already were, love,” she said with un-Hawkelike sincerity. “But yes, it does, even if you won’t let me give it a funny name.” Her voice was sleepy. “I’m yours, Fenris. No ring required.”  


“There will be one,” he promised, but she was already asleep. It was just as well, he thought with a smile. That only meant that he could surprise her. With that lovely thought in his head, Fenris quickly fell into a deep, restful sleep. Betrothed to be betrothed indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that y'all don't mind me posting a little early (I'll still do my regularly scheduled update on Monday). It's been a rough week and working on this has been one of the things that consistently made me happy. I hope that it gives you some joy too! Next chapter has Fenris taking a trip to see Jacob. Be well, friends!


	29. Unfinished Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris goes to visit Count Durand and returns home to learn that Hawke had a scary encounter.

_Dear Count Durand,_

_It is my sincere hope that this letter finds you well. With your permission, I should like to call upon you at your soonest convenience. There are things that I wish to say._

_Sincerely,_  
_Fenris Tethras-Vallen_

Fenris sighed and looked down at the letter, reaching for his drink. He was in Varric’s rooms in the Hanged Man since he wasn’t sure he was ready to explain what he was doing to Hawke.  


“That was a big sigh, Broody,” Varric said from his spot next to the fire. The dwarf had his legs propped up on an ottoman and was reading a huge leatherbound book at a speed that Fenris found almost preposterous. “Something on your mind?”  


“I am writing a letter,” Fenris said. He took a sip of the tart antivan wine and set the glass down. Drinking wasn’t going to help him be more eloquent.   


“I gathered as much when you asked me to borrow my good wax,” Varric said wryly. He grinned over at Fenris. “Writing love letters to Hawke?”  


Fenris blushed. “That’s a good idea,” he said. “But no. I am writing to Jacob.”  


Varric choked on the whisky he had been sipping, his bushy eyebrows climbing almost to his hairline. “You’re what?”  


“I am asking if I may come and visit Jacob,” Fenris said, trying not to sound nervous. “I want to talk to him.”  


Varric set his book down and rose from the comfortable chair, coming to plop down in the straight-backed chair next to Fenris. “All right, Fenris,” he said. “I’ll bite. What is it you want to say? You aren’t generally the gloating type.”  


Fenris shook his head, flinching. “No!” he said. “Varric I just...I owe Jacob my life and my freedom as much as I owe it to you and Hawke. I want to thank him. In person. It feels like the right thing to do.”  


Varric leaned back in his chair, his gray eyes fixed on Fenris’. “Well, shit,” he said softly. “You know that Hawke already thanked him, right? She visited, brought a gift basket. The works.”  


“But I have not,” Fenris said. “It is my life that he saved, Varric. If we had not had the Arrow, Danarius would have gotten me back to Tevinter. By now, I would not even know your name...or Hawke’s.” 

He swallowed hard, throttling down the awful thoughts. “I would be a slave once more, in all ways.” He had to make Varric understand how important this was. “He could have lied to Hawke. He could have pretended that the Arrow was not in port. He could have simply refused her. He could have used my rescue as leverage to secure her hand in marriage.”  


“You’ve thought about this a lot,” Varric said, his eyes a little wide. “That isn’t the kind of man he is, though, Fenris. He never would have done any of those things.”  


“Clearly,” Fenris said. “For which I am grateful. But if he was a big enough man, an honorable enough man to secure my rescue when he had so much to lose by doing so, should I not be an honorable enough man to thank him for it to his face?”   


Varric reached out and clasped Fenris on the shoulder and Fenris blushed at the unmistakable pride he saw in his friend’s face. “I get it,” Varric said. “Let me take a look at your letter.”

****

It had taken only a day for Count Durand to reply. 

_Dear Master Tethras-Vallen,_

_I am pleased to hear that you have made a full recovery. I shall send Dylan with the carriage tomorrow around noontide, if that suits you. Neriel wishes me to ask if Orana might accompany you, if her mistress can spare her. I shall see you tomorrow._

_Regards,_  
_Jacob Durand_

Fenris had accepted the offer and now found himself sitting across from Orana in Jacob’s well-appointed carriage. The younger elf woman was fidgeting nervously, though there was a smile on her face.   


“Master Fenris?” Orana asked suddenly.  


Fenris tried not to flinch. He’d given up on trying to get Orana to call him anything else. The time he’d spent recovering in the Hawke estate had apparently made him an official member of the household in Orana’s estimation. The thought simultaneously warmed him and made him...itchy. He did not relish being called “Master”.  


“Yes, Orana?” he asked, smiling back at her. She was much less nervous around, well, everyone these days.   


“Could I show you something, Messere?” she asked, blushing. “I know that it is most irregular of me, but Mistress is always so kind and if I am about to make a fool of myself, I should like to know!”  


Fenris gave a wry chuckle. “I see, and I am less kind than Hawke?”  


She blushed and looked down at the handmade bag she held on her lap. “No! That isn’t what I mean at all! I-I-”  


“Peace, Orana,” Fernis said gently. “I was only teasing. I know what you mean about your mistress. I would be honored to see whatever you have to show me.”  


Relief flooded her face as she smiled shyly back at him. She reached inside her bag and pulled out a cream colored dress. She unfolded it tenderly and Fenris felt his eyes widen at the intricate needlework on the front of the skirt. It was a willow tree, it’s long branches dipping down into a stream from which what was unmistakably a Halla was drinking.   


“It’s lovely, Orana,” he said sincerely. “Your work is very fine, indeed.”  


She blushed and folded it away again. “I would like to give it to Neriel,” she said quietly. “I know that she misses her clan often, and I thought it might be nice to have something that reminded her of them.”   


“That is a very considerate thought,” Fenris said, meaning it.   


“It isn’t stupid, Messere?” she asked. “Only, Neriel is the Steward of a Count. She lives in a castle where she has many fine things. It is not too plain a gift?”  


“Orana, if Neriel feels about you as you plainly feel about her, then nothing you could give her would be too plain,” Fenris said.   


Orana smiled at him, a knowing smile this time, and Fenris blushed.  


“Trust me,” he said wryly. “It is a lesson I have had to learn as well.”  


Orana nodded. “Begging your pardon, Messere,” she said softly. “But I think we are very lucky in the women who love us.”  


“I could not agree more,” Fenris said. He glanced out the carriage window and then did a double take. “Sweet Andraste, it really is a fucking castle!”  


Orana giggled and nodded.  


Fenris felt his heart begin to beat faster as the carriage rolled across an honest-to-goodness drawbridge and came to a halt in front of a set of doors that Flemmeth in her dragon form could have walked through comfortably. He waited, as he had been instructed by Varric, for someone to open the carriage door for him before climbing out and handing Orana down. A smaller door set in the large ones opened and the elven woman that Fenris remembered from the night Hawke had spent at Jacob’s stepped out, a warm smile on her face. “Master Fenris, if you’ll follow me to the library,” she said. 

She glanced at Orana and winked. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen, love,” she said softly. “Mazin has something he wants to ask you.”  


Orana blinked and then smiled, hurrying inside.  


Neriel indicated for Fenris to follow and led him inside. He followed her through the surprisingly comfortable looking great hall and up a staircase that let out into a room that made him catch his breath.  


“This is incredible,” he breathed, looking around. Varric had waxed somewhat poetic about Jacob’s library in the past, and Fenris could see that it had not been an exaggeration. The massive windows looked out on calming, pastoral views, and if the presence of so many books was this exciting for him, he could only imagine what it did to Varric.  


Neriel smiled at him, but it did not reach all the way to her eyes. He could not blame her. If she was as loyal to Jacob as it sounded like his servants were, he would be seen as something of an enemy. The man who got in the way of her master’s happiness. “Can I get you anything, Master Tethras-Vallen?” she asked cooly.   


“No, thank you,” Fenris said.  


“I hope that you will at least join me for some wine,” a familiar voice said from behind him. “Thank you, Neriel, that will be all.”  


She nodded in their direction and then left, closing the heavy door behind herself.  


Fenris took a deep breath and turned to face Jacob. He inclined his head to the other man. “Your Grace,” he said formally.  


Jacob chuckled and shook his head. “I think we’re a little past that,” he said, going to the sideboard and pouring two glasses of red wine. “Don’t you?” He handed Fenris a glass and raised his own.“It’s not poisoned,” Jacob said wryly. “I promise. If I wanted you dead, I could have just pretended that the Arrow wasn’t in port. And you may as well continue to call me Jacob.”  


Fenris touched his glass to Jacob’s and took a cautious sip after the other man did. “The thought had occurred to me,” he said, following when Jacob indicated that they should sit.   


Jacob plopped down in a comfortable looking armchair next to the massive window facing a sparkling section of river. “You mentioned that you had something to discuss,” Jacob said as Fenris sat in the chair next to him. He took a sip of wine. “I will admit to being intrigued. Though, if you are coming to ask for my blessing in marrying Saoirse, I am afraid I will have to decline.” There was a tightness to his smile. “I am not that noble, I am afraid.”  


Fenris took a deep breath. “Jacob, I wanted to see you so that I could thank you in person for your role in saving my life.”  


The other man’s eyebrow rose, but he remained silent.  


“If Hawke and Varric had not had the Moira’s Arrow, there is no way they would have been able to reach the Victory in time,” Fenris said. “She was not the fastest ship, but she was finer by half than most of the ships in the Docks. And that’s saying nothing of finding a crew, or a skilled captain.” He shook his head, forcing himself to hold Jacob’s eyes. “If not for you, I would be a slave once more.” He swallowed hard. It was hard to say the next part, but he needed Jacob to understand the stakes. “My former master, Danarius, on top of everything he would have done to punish me for running...he would have ripped the memories of Saoirse and Kirkwall from my mind. I would have lost everything I hold dear.”  


Jacob’s eyes had gotten much wider and he took a slow sip of wine before shaking his head. “No one deserves that,” he said quietly. “It’s as bad as what the Templars do to the mages. Worse, perhaps, as the mages retain some memory of what they were.”   


Jacob sighed and scrubbed a hand through his closely cropped curls. “Fenris, as you have taken the honorable step of coming to speak to me, I will return your courtesy by being honest. If this had happened twenty years ago, when I was a young man, I cannot say for certain that I would not have done something straight out of Varric’s books. Perhaps I would have pretended the Arrow was not in harbor, or needed repairs. Perhaps I would have used Saoirse’s desperation to save your life as a way to secure her hand in marriage.” His lips quirked into a bitter smile. “I have no doubts that if I’d told her that the price of the Arrow was becoming my wife, she would have said yes.”  


“She would have,” Fenris said. He knew it without a single doubt.  


Jacob sighed. “But I am not that man anymore. I have seen too much. Lived through too much. The world is often a sorrowful, painful place. I would rather contribute to making it better than making it worse.” He glanced over at Fenris. “I will not pretend that I harbor no ill-feeling towards you, Fenris. But it is jealousy on my part, I am man enough to admit. I cannot help but wish it had been I who had won the inimitable heart of Saoirse Hawke. But if her heart was to be won by anyone, I am at least glad it was by a man so honorable as to come and have this conversation face-to-face.” He smiled, but it was a sad one. “Hawke will always have a friend in me, and perhaps one day you shall as well.” His dark eyes narrowed. “Though I would not hold your breath on it happening soon,” he said with just enough humor to take out most of the sting.   


Fenris nodded, permitting himself a small smile. “Understood,” he said. “I would like that though.”  


“Time will tell,” Jacob said. “It always does.”  


The two of them lapsed into silence for a few long minutes before Jacob cleared his throat. “May I ask you something?”   


Fenris nodded, taking a sip of his wine.  


“Are things as bad in Kirkwall as I have been hearing?” Jacob asked. “I’ve been hearing worrying things about the Templars escalating conflicts, and Maker knows that Meredith would love any excuse to police the mages more harshly.”  


“Things are...tense,” Fenris said, trying to tamp down his own worry. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of fear that the next time Hawke went out she would find herself in Meredith’s clutches. “One cannot deny that there are an alarming number of bad mages in Kirkwall, but the Templars are all too happy to resort to violence and tranquility.” He shuddered, thinking of Alrik. “There was a templar a few years ago who wanted to render all mages tranquil, even if they had done nothing wrong.”  


“Surely he wasn’t permitted to do so!” Jacob said. “That’s monstrous!”  


Fenris shook his head. “That was too far for even Meredith,” he said. “She and the Divine both rejected his proposal. Though that didn’t keep him from misusing his power as a templar. We caught up to him just as he was about to do...unspeakable things to a young mage woman.”  


Jacob’s eyes flashed and he took a sip of wine. “Do you think that Hawke’s status as ‘Champion’ protects her?”  


Fenris nodded. “That is undeniable. But that will only go so far. The stories Varric tells aside, Hawke is very cautious about using her magic out in the open. It is too dangerous.” He sighed. “Though I confess it is my greatest worry. There are few risks she would not take to protect those she holds dear.”  


“If the Templars ever come for her, bring her here,” Jacob said firmly.   


“Jacob-”  


“I know that you will protect her with your life,” Jacob said, his tone surprisingly gentle and kind. “You have more than proven that. But I have four-foot thick walls and ways to smuggle people off of my property. Between the two of us, we will be able to make sure that they never take her.” He shuddered. “The thought of Saoirse with a Chantry brand makes me ill.”  


“Me as well,” Fenris said with feeling. “Which is amazing to me given that there was a time when I would have agreed with Alrik.”  


“I can only imagine, given your background,” Jacob said. He rose, indicating that their meeting was at an end and Fenris followed suit.   


“Thank you for meeting with me, Jacob,” Fenris said, holding out his hand. “And again, thank you for your role in saving my life. I do not take it for granted.”  


“I am glad to have done it,” Jacob said, to his surprise. “My own jealousy notwithstanding, it would have been wrong of me to stand idly by when I was in a unique position to help. And there is nothing I would not do for Saoirse’s happiness.” Jacob grasped his hand and shook it gravely. “Promise me that you will treat her well,” he said, looking Fenris in the eyes.   


“I swear it,” Fenris said.   


The other man smiled, but it was a sad one, and the two of them walked down to the Great Hall together. Orana and Neriel were waiting by the door, and Orana was nervously fiddling with her apron, while Dylan stood waiting. Neriel gave him a cool look.   


“Master Fenris?”  


“Yes, Orana?”   


“Mazin and August have asked me to help them with their clothes for their wedding,” she said, smiling brightly. “I shouldn’t like to delay you, but the wedding is only in a few weeks, and I-”  


“Begging your pardon, Messeres,” Dylan interjected from his spot waiting by the door. “But Iona is needing some practice driving the big carriage. If she drives down and back, I would be fresh to bring Orana in the evening. We’ll just hitch up old Tess and Triss for this afternoon and save Jasmine and Jasper for this evening.”   


“Orana, you are more than welcome to spend the night,” Jacob said warmly. “As long as your mistress does not require you.”  


Orana blushed and smiled up at him. “You are too kind, Messere,” she said.   


Jacob shrugged. “Not a bit of it. Neriel would have my hide if I were to turn you out into the cold. It isn’t wise to anger the woman who runs your household.”  


“I shall ask Hawke and send word back with Dylan, if that is acceptable,” Fenris said. “But I know that Hawke is with Varric at the moment. I cannot see a reason why you shouldn’t stay at least the afternoon.”  


Orana grinned at him and then hurried back towards the kitchens. Jacob reached out and Fenris accepted his hand, realizing that doing so in front of Dylan and Neriel was Jacob’s way of letting his staff know that Fenris wasn’t an enemy. He shook the other man’s hand, looking him in the eyes. Jacob then excused himself, leaving Fenris with Neriel. The elf woman seemed more at ease, even answering some of Fenris’ questions about the unique construction of the doors to the great hall. By the time an excited-looking Iona with a decidedly resigned looking Dylan drove Tess and Triss around, Fenris and Nerial were involved in a conversation about Alucand’s Treatise on Home Security. Fenris had been drawn to the book by the sword on the binding and had implemented some of the ideas inside the Hawke Estate after Copper had found a would-be thief in Hawke’s wardrobe. Neriel was enthusiastic about it, which surprised Fenris somewhat.  


“I would not have expected a Dalish elf to be so enamored of the idea of fortification,” he said with a wry smile.  


She surprised him by chuckling. “I know what it is to always have to run,” she said seriously. “It means something to me to have a place to defend.” She glanced out and grinned at the woebegotten look on Dylan’s face. “You’d best be getting on, Master Tethras-Vallen,” she said.   


“Dylan looks nervous,” Fenris said.  


“Iona is very...spirited,” Neriel said with a little grin that had just enough edge to it to tell Fenris that while she’d understood Jacob’s gesture for what it was, it would take her time to entirely let him off the hook. “You are in for an exciting ride!” With that she bowed and hurried off towards the kitchen.  


Fenris sighed and headed out to the carriage. A bumpy ride home was a price he was willing to pay to have assuage his conscience.

****

Varric and Isabela had returned to the Hanged Man and Hawke was stretched out across her bed with Copper snoring by the fire when she heard the door downstairs open. Her head was pounding after the afternoon she’d had, but she forced herself to sit up and scoot to the edge of the bed. Fenris’ steps came up the stairs quickly and when he opened the door, she was surprised by how happy he looked.   


“You look so handsome,” she said, looking him up and down. She’d known that he was going to see Jacob, but she hadn’t seen him before he’d left with Orana.   


He’d dressed up, something that she could understand. Clothes were their own sort of armor and he’d been nervous. He was wearing all black, as he usually did, but he’d chosen the doublet and trousers she’d had Edwina make so that they subtly resembled his armor. Her crest was conspicuously absent from his waist, but she knew that he’d done it out of kindness. He was wearing boots instead of his usual bare feet, and he kicked them off as soon as he shut the door behind himself.   


“And you look lovely,” he said, closing the distance between them and taking her into his arms.   


Hawke smiled up at him, draping her arms over his shoulders. She was wearing a simple white linen dress that was so thin that she wouldn’t have been able to wear it outside of her home without causing a scene. “I thought you might like it,” she said. “How did it go?”  


“It went well,” he said, smiling down. “I feel better for having gone. Jacob is a good man.”  


“He’s not the only one,” she said. “I’m proud of you.” She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him softly. She was curious about what the two men had talked about, but she didn’t want to pry.  


“Before I forget, is it all right if Orana stays the afternoon at the Castle? Jacob even offered her to stay the night. Mazin and August have asked her to help with wedding things.”  


“If he is willing to let her stay, I’m sure that would be easiest for Dylan,” Hawke said with a smile. “And I bet Orana and Neriel would enjoy getting a night together.”  


“I shall run down and inform Dylan,” Fenris said. He gave her a critical look. “You look pale,” he said gently. “Are you well, Hawke?”  


“My head is killing me,” Saoirse admitted. “It’s been a...frustrating afternoon.”  


“Please go lie down,” Fenris said. “I will bring up some tea.”  


“Thank you, love,” Hawke said gratefully. She went to the bed and curled up facing the fire and she must have dozed off, because she woke up to Fenris wrapping his arms around her from behind.  


“Do you want some tea?” he asked quietly.  


She turned and cuddled up against him, closing her eyes and smiling when he ran his fingertips up and down her back.  


“Jacob asked me to make a promise,” Fenris said after a few minutes of quiet cuddling.  


“Oh?” she murmured.  


“I promised him that I would bring you there should things with Meredith and her Templars escalate. He is worried about the situation in Kirkwall.”  


“That was good of him,” Hawke said with a sigh. “He’s not the only one worried.” She took a deep breath, knowing that Fenris was going to have a strong reaction to what she had to say. “Speaking of Meredith...I saw her today.” She felt Fenris’ hands tighten around her waist and heard his sharp intake of air.   


“Oh?” he asked, his voice tight. She looked up at him and saw the fear written plainly across his face. “What happened, Hawke? Are you in danger?”  


She hugged him, shaking her head. “No more than usual,” she said. “Don’t worry.”  


“I always worry,” he said, hugging her back tightly.   


“Orsino was speaking out against the Templars,” Hawke explained, feeling the rush of anger she’d felt earlier.   


“I would have thought that would please you,” Fenris said.  


“You’d think,” Hawke said, pinching the bridge of her nose and trying to drive back the headache. “It isn’t that I don’t agree with him, because I do. But I think standing in the fucking Gallows and doing what even _I_ consider to be instigating is a fucking stupid, shortsighted thing to do. Meredith showed up and I thought for a moment that she was going to drag all of us off because Orsino chose that moment to drag _me_ into their fucking argument!”  


“He _what?_ ”   


Hawke heard the anger in Fenris’ voice and oddly, it made her feel a little better. “I understand that he wants people to understand what we mages are facing,” she said softly. “I want them to understand too.”  


“But Orsino is going to make Meredith and her Templars crack down harder if he pushes in that way,” Fenris finished for her.   


“I told them that trading threats didn’t help anyone,” Hawke said. “Which felt...gross. But all these people were there watching me Fenris and I-I don’t want to be why Kirkwall goes up like a fucking powder keg!” Tears had started streaking down her face again. She’d already cried with Varric earlier. “And then Meredith...she fucking...she brought up my mother. That a Blood Mage killed her. She used it to attack me and I-”  


Fenris pulled her against her chest and she let out a sob, clutching at him. “Shhhhhh,” he whispered. “I am so sorry, Hawke. That was uncalled for.”  


She let herself cry for a few moments, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the gentle strength of his arms. His hands stroked up and down her back and slowly she felt herself beginning to calm down. “Sorry,” she whispered after a few moments. “You’ve already had an emotionally trying day. I don’t mean to add to it.”  


His lips brushed against her forehead. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said. “I am sorry that I was not there with you.”  


She gave a wet little laugh. “I’m kind of glad you weren’t,” she said more lightly than she felt. Truthfully, she shuddered at the thought of his reaction to Meredith’s cutting words. “I can’t imagine you letting what she said go. I wasn’t alone though. Varric and ‘Bela were there. We were coming up here for some Diamondback.”  


“You are not wrong,” Fenris rumbled. “I am glad they were with you. I am surprised they are not still here.”  


“I asked them to go home,” she said, finally looking up into his eyes. He cupped her cheek, his brow furrowing at her words. “I’m glad they were there too,” she said. “But my head was just hurting too much.”  


“Oh Kadan,” Fenris murmured. Hawke sighed against his chest and it turned into a moan of pleasure as his hands slid into her hair.   


“Fenris,” she whispered as his strong hands massaged her scalp. “Fuck that feels so good.”  


“I had a very good teacher,” he said softly and Hawke smiled.   


They lay that way for a long time and Hawke found herself contemplating, not for the first time, how incredibly gentle Fenris was with her. She knew his strength -- anyone who saw the blade he wielded knew -- but he was also more than capable of tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her off. But despite his incredible strength, no one had ever touched her as gently as Fenris did. Certainly the man could throw down when the time was right, but apart from those passionate moments, he touched her like she was made of glass. “I love you so much,” she whispered, hugging him around the waist. “No one has ever touched me like you.” She looked up at him and the sweetness of his smile took her breath away. “You make me feel, I don’t know...precious.”  


“You are,” Fenris said immediately. “I told you the night you let me tie you up that you, that this are the most precious things in my life. I meant it then and I mean it now.”   


She felt her eyes prickling and she tilted her head up and kissed him. “I hope I make you feel even close to this,” she murmured against his lips.   


“Every day,” he replied.  


“Thank you for taking care of me,” she said, pressing her lips to his chest. “I feel better.”  


“How is your head?” he asked, pressing his lips to it.   


“Still achy,” she admitted. “But a lot better.” She smiled up at him. “Not well enough for you to fuck me silly tonight, I’m afraid.” She loved the warm rumble of his laughter as he squeezed her gently.   


“What if I I read to you?” he asked. “Would you like that?”  


She felt her eyes prickling again. How had she ever won the heart of a man like him? “Yes,” she breathed. “That sounds perfect.”  


Fenris gently extricated himself and she watched appreciatively as he walked away. He was back in a trice with a new book tucked under his arm. He poured tea for them both and then sat against the headboard, letting her lean back against his chest.   


Hawke leaned back against him gratefully, for once too tired and achy to worry about if she was too heavy. Instead she looked at the book curiously as she sipped the lavender tea with a generous spoonful of honey, just like she liked it. There was a picture on the front of a dragon with its wings outstretched.   


“What’s that?” she asked.  


She felt him chuckle. “For as many dragons as we have fought, I thought that it might behoove me to learn more about them.”  


She grinned. “We haven’t fought that many,” she said.   


“We have fought enough,” he retorted, but she could hear the smile in his voice. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her more securely against his chest. He opened the book against his knee and began to read.  


Hawke closed her eyes and listened, occasionally taking sips of tea. She loved the confidence that she heard in his voice and he had developed a really pleasant cadence when reading out loud. “I do not think we have fought a High Dragon,” he said after he finished the first chapter detailing the growth stages of dragons.   


“Well that’s comforting,” Hawke murmured, pulling the blanket up over her chest. “Give us time, love. I’m sure we’ll find one.”  


He laughed softly and she smiled at the beloved sound. “What’s the next chapter?” she asked.   


“‘Nesting Habits of Mature Females,’” he said. “Shall I continue?”  


“Yes please,” Hawke said, closing her eyes. Fenris began to speak, giving her a little squeeze around the middle. Hawke sighed happily, some of the tension of the day melting away. She was home with the man who she loved and who, by some miracle, loved her too. Her fears aside, she had a lot to be grateful for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I moved the confrontation between Meredith and Orsino because I felt that the stuff with Fenris and Danarius was more organic at the start of the section.
> 
> I also really wanted Fenris to have a chance to talk to Jacob this chapter and I hope that you enjoyed their conversation and felt like it was reasonably believable.
> 
> I hope that you all enjoyed and I look forward to seeing you next chapter! We're doing Mark of the Assassin next!


	30. Mark of the Assassin *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris doesn't trust Tallis, the latest person to drag Hawke into a conflict.

The courtyard was eerily empty and it made the hairs on the back of Fenris’ neck stand up. He took a deep breath and tried to quiet his nerves. Things were finally back to as close to normal as they ever were in Kirkwall. He was completely physically healed and it seemed like every day the nightmares loosened their hold on him. He and Hawke had once again found their easy intimacy and while neither of them would ever forget their time apart, it hadn’t come between them.  


And now, here they were, following a lead from Varric.  


The dwarf was looking slightly uncomfortable under Hawke’s gaze as she raised an eyebrow and gestured to the empty meeting place they had been summoned to. “And of course, there’s no one,” she said wryly.  


Varric glanced away from her. “All I know is that it had something to do with you nobles. Edge is usually very reliable.”  


“This is normally when we’re ambushed,” Fenris said, glancing around. His instincts told him that something was wrong, though that wasn’t saying much in this instance. They were obviously being set up.  


“Why?” Varric replied defensively. “It’s not always an ambush!”  


No sooner had the words left his mouth than the four of them suddenly found themselves surrounded by masked men.  


“All right,” Varric sighed. “Maybe sometimes it's an ambush.”  


One of the men stepped forward and pointed at Hawke. “And there is the Champion of Kirkwall. You die today!”  


Fenris curled his lip and took a step forward, ready to defend Hawke, when suddenly there was a flurry of motion and a red-headed elf woman appeared among them. She dispatched several of the would-be assassins and Fenris found himself wading into the fray at Hawke’s side. They were able to make short work of their attackers and once the dust had settled the woman introduced herself as Tallis.   


Fenris didn’t like that she’d been looking for Hawke. That always meant trouble. And sure enough she mentioned Duke Prosper, the man who had been fawning all over Hawke at one of the larger banquets in her honor. And now this Tallis wanted to use Hawke for her invitation to the Duke’s hunt to gain access to his property.  


“Stealing from Orlesians is never wrong,” Varric interjected. “Or so I’ve been told.”  


“This isn’t how I was planning to ask you this,” Tallis said, and there was at least some measure of chagrin in her voice. “I was picturing an introduction with...less blood.”  


“What makes you think I steal things just because people ask me to?” Hawke said and she sounded just a little bit put out. Fenris felt his lip quirk just slightly and assiduously avoided looking at Hawke or Varric. No. Stealing something just because someone asked definitely wasn’t something they had ever done.   


“Uh…” they all looked at Varric. “I may have talked you up a bit. Maybe more than once.”  


“Oh, Varric,” Hawke sighed, shaking her head.  


“What?” Varric replied. “It’s not like I’m exaggerating. Much.”  


Fenris took a deep breath, throttling down the wave of irritation at their friend. He understood Varric. He knew that the dwarf loved to tell stories and that Hawke was one of his favorite subjects. And if he was being rational, he couldn’t blame him. No one could argue that she was an interesting woman who had wild adventures. But more than once his stories had gotten them all into trouble. And it looked like this was going to be one of those times.   


“All I’ve heard is that you’re someone who gets things done,” Tallis said. “And I’m hoping that’s true.”  


“Why not?” Hawke said before Fenris or anyone else could reply. “I’ve heard the Orlesians make excellent cheese.”  


Fenris could have groaned aloud. He knew the look in Hawke’s eyes. She wanted an adventure after weeks of relative quiet.   


The two women bantered for a moment before Hawke grew slightly more serious. “So tell me, what exactly is it you want to steal?”  


They listened to Tallis’ explanation about the jewel and Fenris once again felt his hackles rise. The elf was hiding something from them and he didn’t like it. He liked it even less when her parting remark to Hawke was something about hoping she wanted more than fine wine and good company. Hawke didn’t acknowledge the remark, but it was plain that Tallis was flirting with her.  


_Hawke has said she wishes to one day become your wife_ , he chided himself. _It is Tallis who should be jealous_. The thought made him smile, even as he sighed. Things were about to get interesting again.

****

The journey to Chateau Haine was mercifully uneventful, which of course meant that as soon as they arrived things began to get complicated. Duke Prosper had greeted Hawke warmly and invited her to join in the Wyvern Hunt. They had participated of course, managing to find lost dogs, an ancient relic, and curative herbs along the way before finally facing the wyvern. The fight had been an ugly one, testing Hawke’s ability to balance her offensive magic with her healing more carefully than she had since her fight with the Arishok. More than once Fenris felt his heart leap to his throat as Hawke darted in and out of the fray, alternating between dealing damage and keeping them all alive. Not a one of them escaped the fight unscathed, but no one fell, and then the beast was dead and they were all taking a moment to catch their breath when they heard an obnoxiously Orlesian voice.  


“Well, if it isn’t the Fereldan turnip.”  


Hawke raised her eyebrow and Fenris heard Varric mutter something about strange insults.  


The noble bade Hawke to abandon the killed wyvern, saying that it was his to kill. He threw what could only be described as a tantrum and Hawke gave him a long look up and down. When she replied, it wasn’t with the sarcasm he would have expected.  


“You had your chance, Orlesian, and you failed.” Her tone was flat and firm.  


“Well, shit,” Varric said quietly, raising Bianca.   


Fenris agreed and held his sword ready. It appeared that after the long slog with the dangerous animal Hawke was in no mood to play games.  


The man had blustered at her, apparently unable to see danger when it stared him in the face and even Tallis had sounded exasperated when she spoke to him. “You do realize this woman has nasty little thugs like you for breakfast, I hope?” 

“Only when we’re out of pancakes,” Hawke said calmly.  


“More insolence! And from a knife-ear this time! I can take no more of this! Kill them all. We can say the wyvern was too much for them.”  


It had turned to bloodshed, as it often did, but the Orlesian noble was no match for the four of them. Duke Prosper arrived just as Hawke was standing over the fallen noble, staff raised, panting.  


The Duke calmed the situation and then put the Baron’s fate in Hawke’s hands, though it was obvious he favored killing their would-be murderer. Much to Fenris’ surprise, Tallis asked Hawke to show the man mercy, saying “he can’t be more than he is.”  


Fenris frowned. That wording sounded familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it.  


Hawke had quipped about the baron’s blood smelling worse than the wyvern’s and released him, much to the Duke’s obvious surprise. The baron hadn’t seemed grateful, naturally, but he’d gone. 

Duke Prosper had congratulated Hawke and invited them all to the celebration back at the Chateau before departing. Though Tallis had advocated on the baron’s behalf, she seemed surprised that Hawke had shown mercy. Fenris wasn’t surprised at all. It was not the choice that he would have made, which often meant it was _exactly_ the one Hawke would pick. But that was part of why he loved her as he did. He took her hand as they began their walk back to the chateau.  


Hawke winced and rolled her shoulder and Fenris squeezed her hand. “Are you all right?” he asked.  


“We should write to the man who wrote your dragon book,” she said. “Tell him that he needs to go into more detail about how dangerous wyverns are.” She shot him a wry smile. “And I’m fine, just pulled my shoulder a little bit trying not to let that thing get me with its claws.”  


“You were very impressive during that fight,” Fenris said, pitching his voice low.”You moved with such skill it was a pleasure to watch.”  


Hawke giggled and nudged him with her hip. “Stop that,” she said. “We still have work to do.”  


Fenris grinned at her, releasing her hand to wrap his arm around her waist. “Truly,” he said. “Your abilities have grown by leaps and bounds, Hawke. I am proud of you, for it speaks to how much you have dedicated yourself to honing your craft.”  


She blushed. “Even if it’s magic?”  


“Even so,” he said. “You were a powerful mage when I met you. That would have been enough for many. But you have spent years practicing and pushing yourself to be more skilled.” He smiled at her. “Though no matter how skilled you ever become, I will always feel more comfortable if I am at your back.”  


She winked at him. “I’d very much like to have you at my back,” she said softly, her eyes heated when they met his.  


His breath caught in his throat and he felt his eyes widen, his cock twitching. “Minx,” he growled into her ear.  


She kissed his cheek and then stepped away from him, hurrying forward to as Tallis a question he couldn’t hear.  


“Things between you two seem to be back to normal,” Varric noted, suddenly right next to him.  


Fenris smiled down at his friend, nodding. “I could not ask for more,” he said simply.  


Varric clapped him on the shoulder, returning his smile. “I’m happy for you both,” he said. “So long as you keep the saccharine declarations of love to yourselves...unless you’re going to let me write about them.”  


“You would not dare,” Fenris growled with mock severity.  


Varric shrugged a shoulder, an impish smile on his face, and together they all adjourned back to the chateau and the women changed clothes before the party. Fenris found himself grinning at Hawke as she walked up in the fitted doublet and breeches she’d brought. She looked lovely, though she always did to him, but no less formidable than usual. Her clothes were of excellent quality, but it was clear that she had dressed preparing for things to go wrong, as they often did.  


“You look lovely,” he whispered to her, giving her a quick squeeze around the waist.   


She leaned into him briefly before straightening and nodding to the approaching Tallis. The elf had changed into a dress and there was a frustrated expression on her face. She told them how they were locked out of the castle and would have to find another way inside. Fenris sighed quietly. It was never simple.   


Then, Varric had _had_ to point out that the gathered nobles would probably take issue with the four of them traipsing around together. 

Hawke had nodded. “Tallis and I will go mingle. You two find somewhere safe and wait for our signal.”  


Fenris blinked and opened his mouth to argue, but Hawke silenced him with a look. “I’ll be all right,” she said quietly, giving his hand a squeeze. Then the two of them were off.  


Fenris stared after them, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I don’t like this,” he growled.  


“I know,” Varric said, gently leading him over to a quiet, deserted alcove.  


“I don’t trust Tallis,” Fenris added.   


“Me neither,” Varris said agreeably.  


Fenris glared at him. “You’re trying to placate me.”  


“Is it working?”  


Fenris plopped down on the bench in the alcove, shaking his head.   


Varric sat next to him and gestured for one of the elven waiters to bring them some drinks. They sipped in companionable silence for a few minutes.   


“How much time do you figure we have before something goes wrong?” Fenris asked.  


Varric sighed. “I’d give it an hour.”

****

Much to his chagrin, Varric was off by a few hours. Beside him Fenris grew increasingly fidgety as the sun made its way across the sky. He was about to suggest that they go walk around just to have something to do when he saw the telltale bustle of the changing of the guards. Guards loved to gossip.   


“Stay here,” he ordered Fenris. The last thing he needed was the elf going off and starting something. He stared at Fenris until the other man gave a grudging nod, then went over to grab a drink and do some snooping. It didn’t take long.  


“-little knife-eared bitch,” he heard one guard say as he handed his pike to the man who was relieving him.  


“And the Champion was working with her?” the guard said, taking hold of the pike. “Fereldan Dog-Lord Bitch! The Duke will bring her to heel, no doubt.” He grinned at the other man. “If we’re lucky, he’ll let us help.”  


Varric clenched his teeth, glad he’d left Fenris behind. As angry as the guards' words made him, the elf would have taken it worse. He forced himself to focus. The only way to help Hawke was to work out where she was and rescue her.   


“-never get out of the dungeons,” one of the guards was saying.   


That was all he needed. Trying not to hurry, Varric made his way back to Fenris and filled him in, leaving out the guard’s comments about bringing Hawke to heel.   


Fenris looked a little wild around the eyes, but he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. “We have to get inside,” he said through gritted teeth. “Any ideas?”  


“We have to avoid the Duke,” Varric said. “I’m guessing the guards have been told to keep an eye out for us too.”  


Fenris nodded, but he wasn’t looking at Varric. He was looking at an attractive elf woman holding a large cheese plate. Without saying a word he strode away from Varric to the woman, his shoulders rigid. 

Varric stared after him with some concern. When Fenris was worried about Hawke he was like a hound that had got a scent. It could be intimidating for people not used to dealing with him. Hell, Varric was man enough to admit that he was glad that he’d never been on the receiving end. But to his surprise, he saw the woman glance surreptitiously around before handing something to Fenris. Varric caught the flash of gold before the woman dipped her head and hurried away.  


Fenris returned to him, his fist clenched tightly around something. “I have the key to the servants quarters,” he said quietly. “Let us make haste.”  


“You bribed a servant?” Varric said, falling into step with his friend. “Rather than resort to violence?” He put his hand over his heart. “My little boy is all grown up. I couldn’t be more proud.”  


Fenris snorted, but Varric saw a tiny bit of the tension leave his shoulders and was able to relax a little himself. There was no doubt their situation wasn’t good, but a tense Fenris could be like an over-winched crossbow--likely to cause catastrophic damage to himself and others.   


Together they hurried into the door the servant had directed them to and made their way down into the bowels of the chateau. However, there things took a turn.  


“And here we are again. For the fourth time,” Fenris said as they jogged into the same intersection of corridors that they had seen before.  


Varric glanced around, acutely aware of the nervous energy that was coming off of his friend. “Fifth, I think.”  


“What do we do now?” Fenris was good at managing to seem calm, but Varric could hear his temper fraying.  


“Play Diamondback and wait for Hawke to find us?” he joked. Levity usually helped to pull Fenris back from the brink.   


The elf sighed and there was nothing to do but jog off and continue their search. Varric was beginning to really worry when they turned a corner and there was Hawke with Tallis.   


“There you are!” Fenris said, the relief in his voice palpable. His eyes took in Hawke from head to toe, lines of worry between them. “Were you hurt? What happened?”   


Hawke gave him a gentle smile and reached for his hand. “I’m all right,” she said. “I’ll tell you all about it later. For now I’d like to get out of here.”  


Varric couldn’t help but agree. 

****

Fenris squeezed Hawke’s hand and resisted the urge to pull her against himself. She was fine. That was all that mattered. Together they followed Tallis down into the caves beneath the castle. Fenris wasn’t thrilled to still be trusting the other elf, but he couldn’t argue her logic of avoiding the entirety of the Duke’s guards.   


Of course, while their retreat into the cave had avoided the guards, it had led to several skirmishes with the odd ghastlings that inhabited the mountain. They weren’t much of a problem for the four of them, more of an annoyance as they slowed the party’s escape. They followed the path until Hawke skidded to a stop, staring off to their right. “A lake? Under the mountain?”  


Tallis pointed out that people sheltering at the castle during the blight would have needed fresh water, but Fenris still found himself a little aghast. “They built a lake?”  


Tallis shrugged and pleaded ignorance, obviously distracted as she wandered to the other side of the portcullis, muttering to herself. It slammed down behind her and their party found themselves trapped with the Duke’s Chasind bodyguard Cahir.  


“Trust me!” Tallis said. Then she ran away.  


_Wonderful._  


“The circle are not the only ones who know how to break a mage,” Cahir said. Fenris gripped his sword and put himself between Hawke and the other man. He would die before he allowed Cahir anywhere near Hawke. Next to him he could see Hawke’s shoulders had gone rigid as she glared at the Chasind man. “The Duke is a fool,” Cahir continued. “His enemies are a posturing, guileless lot. But you are worth testing.” He had attacked mercilessly then and the fight had been a brutal one. But to Fenris’ surprise, Tallis had reappeared and come to their aid. Together they were able to defeat Cahir and his men and escape.   


As they made their way through the tunnel, Fenris moved to walk alongside Hawke. “You frightened me,” he said quietly, the words escaping his lips before he even thought about them. There was no doubt to their truth, however. He trusted Hawke. He trusted her skill and her judgment. But it still made him anxious when she went off without him. Especially with someone they did not know and surely couldn’t entirely trust.  


“Me?” Hawke said, with a glance in his direction.   


“There was a moment before we found you…” Fenris swallowed hard, trying to banish the images that had come to his mind. They had heard guards talking on the way down into the dungeons. Varric had had to drag him away when they heard the men speculating on which implements in the Duke's apparently well-stocked dungeons could be used to break Hawke. “Don’t do that again,” he finished. He’d intended to sound stern, but he heard the fear in his voice.  


Hawke slipped her fingers into his for a moment and Fenris allowed her warmth to sooth the rough edges of his worry. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, giving his hand a squeeze.  


He squeezed back and then released her. They could talk more later.  


Once they had gone a little ways down the passage they found themselves at a fork. Fenris would have been lying if he’d said that he didn’t want to leave Tallis and all of her foolishness behind and go home. But he knew that there was no way that would be Hawke’s choice. She had promised to help, and that was what she would do. They followed Tallis, which led to another fight with the Baron that they spared earlier, Qunari and Sarebaas, another wyvern, until finally, they found the meeting place of Baron Prosper and Salit.   


Fenris had to give Tallis credit, she had managed to get the scroll away from the Duke and get out of the way before he summoned Leopold, his wyvern. The creature had attacked and killed Salit and from there, the fight was on.  


Duke Prosper and his guards attacked both Hawke’s party and the qunari, and for a long time the sounds of steel against steel and Hawke’s fireballs filled the clearing. It looked like they were making progress when suddenly the Duke cast some sort of spell, stunning them all. Fenris fought through the fog in his mind, struggling to center himself again. When he was able to focus, he saw the Duke reach the top of the ruins and motion his wyvern down. The creature, it’s skin an unnatural green, leapt down and began attacking. Gritting his teeth, Fenris waded back into the fray, concentrating on wounding the massive wyvern. Slowly they whittled away at the creature, dodging attacks from Duke Prosper above, until finally the duke appeared to lose patience. 

With a yell he leapt down atop the wyvern’s back and fired the sickly green substance he’d used on Salit towards Varric. The dwarf managed to get out of the way of the wyverns answering leap and soon he saw the telltale blue of Hawke’s healing aura. He could see the determination in her eyes, and though the fight seemed hopeless, the sight of her gave him strength. After what felt like a year of fighting Fenris thought that perhaps they had a chance, when suddenly Prosper shot Hawke with some of the sticky green substance. She reeled backwards, dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, and Fenris was moving towards her in an instant. But he knew that he wasn’t fast enough. He saw the wyvern’s muscles bunch and heard himself scream her name as the creature leapt towards her. Her eyes were calculating as she ducked under its attack and fired off a fireball with her staff, and to his great relief the wyvern overshot. Over the cliff it went, taking its master with it.   


The duke was persistent, Fenris had to give him that, and he managed to grab the edge of the cliff with one hand. He looked up at them, rage in his eyes.  


“Keep away from me!” he snarled up at Hawke. “The Empress will hear of this. Orlais will burn Kirkwall to the ground. All of you will die screaming. I swear it!”  


“I would have tried begging for mercy,” Hawke said, staring down at him. “But that’s just me.” She turned away from him nonchalantly.  


“You…filthy…whore,” Prosper snarled.  


“Thank you for the lovely party,” Hawke tossed over her shoulder as she strode away. “I’ll treasure the belt.”  


At that moment the duke’s grip faltered and the man fell, striking the rocks below with a sickening crunch. Fenris and Varric glanced at each other. 

“They never learn,” Fenris said wryly, turning to follow Hawke.  


“Looks like the Duke has...fallen from Grace,” Hawke said before striding off towards Tallis.  


Fenris couldn’t help but grin at Varric and the dwarf just shook his head. 

Only Hawke.   


It was somewhat alarming to learn that what Tallis had been after was a list of Qunari agents throughout Thedas. Fenris had known that no mere bauble would have been worth the trouble the other elf had gone to, but still, the implications...he supposed he understood Tallis wanting to protect the innocents among her people. It is exactly what Hawke would have done in her shoes. But still, the information that the elf held was valuable...and dangerous.  


He was gratified by the fact that Hawke hadn’t let Tallis off the hook easily. She’d questioned her about her motives and even challenged some of her views about the Qunari. In the end, Tallis had thanked her, as people always did, and given her the large gem that she’d stolen. She admitted that it was intended to be a diversion from her real goal, but it was a sizeable bauble and Fenris was sure that the money Hawke got from selling it would go to some worthy cause or another.  


"I am grateful, I want you to know that," Tallis said to Hawke, sounding uncharacteristically sincere. 

Hawke smiled warmly at her with a little shrug. "That's what you do for a friend," she said like she'd just picked up the tab at the Hanged Man rather than battled a wyvern. 

“I can honestly say I’m a little jealous of you right now,” Tallis said, her blue eyes meeting Fenris’.  


“Just keep your distance,” Fenris said with exaggerated irritation, earning him a chuckle from Varric and a wink from Hawke.  


Tallis sighed theatrically before bidding them farewell, and together the three of them began an exhausted journey back to Kirkwall. 

****

It was well past dark once they had entered Kirkwall, and when they were safely in the city Varric heaved a sigh and turned to Hawke shaking his head. “I know, I know,” he said, holding up his hands.   


She grinned at him. “I didn’t say anything.”  


“You didn’t have to,” he replied. “I should have looked into Edge’s information harder. I just thought-” he trailed off and suddenly Fenris had an idea of what had gotten them all into their latest mess.  


“You thought that an easy mission where we broke into some noble’s mansion and had a little fun causing mayhem would be a relatively safe way to be sure I was back to my old strength,” Fenris said gently, placing a hand on Varric’s shoulder. Varric glanced up at him, his eyes widening just a little and Fenris chuckled. “Am I close?”  


“Alarmingly,” Varric said with a wry smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you both in danger. Well, more than usual."  


Fenris shrugged and saw Hawke do the same.  


“When aren’t we in danger?” Hawke asked, giving the dwarf a hug. Varric hugged her back before giving an exaggerated sniff. He shook his head. “I’m going to go and have a drink and a bath, probably at the same time.” The look he gave the two of them was a canny one. “I’m sure the two of you want...to get cleaned up,” he said. “Come by tomorrow for some diamondback?”  


Hawke nodded and the three of them bade each other farewell. Fenris felt her warm fingers lace through his and pulled her a little closer to him. The normally bustling streets had subsided into their relative evening quiet.  


“Heading back to your mansion?” Hawke asked, a teasing lilt to her voice. “Join me later for some reading?”  


Fenris growled, the strain of his worries about her finally bubbling up to the surface. After glancing around to make sure they were alone, he yanked her around a corner into a darkened alcove. There he shoved her up against the wall as he had those many years ago and captured her lips with his.   


She moaned into the kiss, her fingers going up into his hair as she pulled him closer. He felt her leg circle around the back of his thigh and he grunted, parting his lips so that he could caress her tongue with his own.   


Sliding his hands up her sides, Fenris grasped one of her breasts roughly through her shirt, dragging his thumb around her nipple. She groaned and arched into his touch, tilting her head back and baring her throat to his lips. He was quick to take advantage of the opening, nibbling and kissing from her jaw down to her collarbone while he squeezed her breast. She was breathing hard and he heard her whisper his name.  


He looked up from his ministrations and found her golden eyes fixed on him. “Are you all right?” she asked softly, her eyes searching his.   


He took a deep breath and leaned his forehead against hers. “You frightened me,” he said quietly. “I do not like being frightened, Hawke. I do not like it when you take needless risks and you know it.”  


Her hands wove gentle circles through his hair, something he normally found calming. At that moment, however, all he could think of was the many years he’d spent without her gentle touch. What if he had lost her for good?  


“It was the right call and you know it,” she said, startling him. He looked up and immediately saw the stubborn set of her jaw.   


“You were captured!” he sputtered.   


“And if you’d been there, you would have been captured too!” she argued. “You know that me and Tallis walking around were less conspicuous than you and Varric! You can’t always protect me, Fenris,” she said, her tone growing a little more gentle. “But I love you for wanting to.”  


He took a deep breath and kissed her lips softly. “I will always try,” he said firmly. “And you cannot stop me.”  


She smiled up at him and then widened her eyes, biting her lip. “I can’t stop you?” she breathed, arching her back so that her breasts pressed against him. “That sounds promising.”  


He growled and pressed her more firmly against the wall, sliding his hand under her shirt and breastband to take hold of her breast. She moaned, but he caught it with a deep kiss as he squeezed her and then pinched her nipple. She arched into him, her arms tightening around his neck as she moved restlessly against him. He broke the kiss to nuzzle her neck as his hands continued their ministrations and soon she was breathing hard and letting out the occasional whimper of need. Fenris was so hard that it was almost painful and as she looked up at him with wide eyes he knew that he had to have her. 

“I want you, Hawke,” he rasped into her ear. He was gratified to feel her shiver, but he saw the spark of mischief in her eyes as she looked up at him.  


“You mean once we get home and bathe?” she asked innocently.   


He wanted to shove her up against the wall and take her, but with her wearing breeches and boots it wasn’t entirely practical. Fenris glanced around and saw a pile of crates that he thought might do nicely. “No,” he said, taking her easily into his arms and carrying her over. He shrugged off his cloak and lay it down on top of the crates so she wouldn’t get a splinter and then gently bent her over it so that her lovely ass was sticking out. He leaned against her, letting her feel his cock as he kissed the back of her neck and down to her ear. “You mentioned that you would like to have me at your back," he growled. "I trust this will suffice?”   


“Oh fuck yes,” she breathed, rubbing her ass against him.   


He wasted no time jerking her breeches and smalls down with one hand while he freed his cock with the other. Gently he reached around her waist and slid his hand between her legs, wanting to be sure that she was ready for him. He heard himself let out a desperate moan when he felt how wet and swollen she already was. “Hawke-”  


“Please,” she whimpered.  


How could he deny her? He slid inside her in one thrust and if they had been at her estate he would have yelled out at how amazing she felt. The position wrapped her even more tightly around him than usual and he knew that there was no way he could last long taking her. He heard her groan and he leaned down, giving her ear a nip. “Quiet,” he growled at her through the feral smile he felt on his face. “Quiet, Saoirse, or I will have to stop.”  


“Couldn’t you just gag me or something?” she panted, rocking her hips so that she stroked along his length. He managed to choke down the groan her actions inspired and instead pulled back before snapping his hips and slamming into her. She arched up with a gasp, her hands clenching in the fabric of his cloak. “Fuck-Fenris!”  


“Touch yourself, Hawke,” he growled, grasping both of her hips and thrusting into her again. “I want to feel you cum around me.”  


She whimpered and was quick to comply, sliding her hand between her legs. He could feel her start to stroke her clit and then she tightened around him further and it was all he could do not to moan her name loud enough for all of Kirkwall to hear. He loved the soft little sounds she made as she tried to stay quiet, loved the sound himself sliding into her, loved the way her body trembled as she began to get close. He leaned down, sliding his hands under her so that he could squeeze and caress her breasts.   


“Hawke,” he grunted quietly into her ear as he pinched her nipples. “You feel so good, Kadan.”  


“Fenris,” she whispered, the tightness in her voice telling him that she was close. “Please-” she trailed off with a little whimper, her legs starting to shake.   


“Please...what?” he panted, the motion of his hips speeding up as he began to chase his own release.   


“Cum in me!” she growled. “Fill me like I fucking know that you want to!”  


Her words shocked a snarl out of him and he bit down on the juncture of her throat and shoulder out of pure reflex. She let out a snarl of her own and bucked back into him, her body beginning to shudder and spasm. She buried her face in the crook of her elbow and screamed into it as he redoubled his pace, slamming into her with the most obscene sound of flesh on flesh. He came quickly, driven over the edge by his need and her words, and after a moment collapsed on top of her panting. They stayed that way for a few moments before he kissed her cheek and pulled back, grunting when he slid out of her.   


“This is going to be a damp walk home,” she joked, pulling up her breeches and making a face.   


Fenris stalked towards her, loving how her eyes grew wide and hungry as he backed her into the wall. He leaned down and kissed her gently. “Do you mind?” he asked.  


She shook her head, grinning. “Especially knowing what it does to you.”  


He cupped her cheek. “Oh, I intend on continuing this at home,” he said with a smile.   


He was alarmed to see her eyes grow shiny enough to pick up the ambient lantern light from the street. “What’s wrong?” he asked, cupping her cheek.  


She shook her head, smiling. “Nothing at all,” she said, swiping tears from her face. “You called it ‘home’.”  


He blinked, realizing that she was right. He felt himself smile and took her into his arms, hugging her tightly. “I suppose I did,” he said, marveling at how right the words felt.   


She hugged him back and then let him wipe away her tears. “Let’s go home,” she said with a smile.   


“I am already there,” he said, taking her hand and turning towards Hightown. "Wherever you are is home to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you guys enjoyed! I think the DLC for this game is fantastic and I had a blast playing it. Fenris’ little moment of fear for Hawke always makes my heart ache. Next chapter we will see a familiar face from DAO!


	31. A Murder of Crows *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Company get drawn into a conflict involving the famed Antivan Crows.

Fenris could have groaned at the look on Hawke’s face as the four of them stood in front of the Antivan Nuncio. It looked like they were going to be hunting assassins that afternoon.   


“We have plenty of daylight to reach the Dalish,” Hawke said, hurrying through the streets of Hightown.  


“Hawke, we don’t _have_ to go after the assassin,” Varric said, hurrying to keep up with her.   


She shrugged. “It’s a beautiful day,” Hawke said with a grin. “Why not go after him?”  


Varric sighed. “Because he killed the last several people who were sent after him?”  


She slung an arm around his shoulder. “But they didn’t have you!”  


Fenris gave a wry chuckle. He knew the look in Hawke’s eyes. There was no point in trying to dissuade her.   


“It’s the right thing to do,” Aveline said. “A man like that should be brought to justice.”  


Hawke wrapped her arm around Aveline’s waist, grinning up at the taller woman. “Exactly!”  


Fenris was pretty sure that he knew the real reason for Hawke’s enthusiasm. Ever since Hawke had been dragged into the altercation between Orsino and Meredith, she had been extremely on-edge. She was terrified that things between the Mages and Templars were about to come to a head. A simple mission was likely exactly what she was craving. Find the bad guy. Kill him. Get paid.   


Fenris reached out as they began to descend the stairs and took Hawke’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She squeezed back and smiled over at him, leading the way to the Dalish camp. Once they had arrived, a young Dalish woman informed them that the assassin was holed up in a nearby cave. They went in after him, because why wouldn’t they go into a cave? Since coming to Kirkwall Fenris felt he had spent a disproportionately large amount of time in caves. The spiders he had been expecting. The massive Varterral had been a little more of a surprise. Still, they had defeated it and once the thing was dead, a blond elven man with tattoos that curled down from his temples materialized out of the shadows.  


“Now you, I wasn’t expecting.” The man spoke with a thick antivan accent and there was a hint of humor in his tone. He inclined his head, smiling at Hawke. “How do you do? My name is Zevran Aranai, adventurer and occasional assassin.”  


Hawke was staring at him, her eyes wide. “I’ve heard about you! You helped the Hero of Fereldan stop the Blight!”  


The other elf’s answering smile was a little tight and there was pain in his eyes when he answered. “At your service, my friend. I must admit, I was waiting for an assault by the Crows, not the mighty Champion of Kirkwall.”  


Hawke gave him a steady look. “How do you know I’m the Champion?”  


Zevran laughed. “Slayer of Qunari, Deep Roads explorer, and a beauty to make the gods jealous? You underestimate your fame!”  


Fenris suppressed the instinctive surge of irritation at the other man’s obvious flirting. Everyone flirted with Hawke. 

Well, flirted with her or tried to kill her.   


Hawke had responded with snark, as she always did, which seemed to amuse the assassin.   


“Ah, let me guess,” Zevran said. “A man named Nuncio asked you to capture a dangerous killer, yes? What did he say this time? That I killed his wife? Butchered his parents? Sold his children into slavery? Or did he tell you he was a lawman from Antiva, charged with apprehending a ridiculously handsome fugitive?”  


Hawke attempted to be stern, but Fenris knew her well enough to be able to tell that she was amused by the other elf. “He also said you were a wanted murderer.”  


Zevran laughed. “Oh, indeed I am!” The look he gave the four of them was a canny one. “But technically I imagine everyone here could rightfully claim that title.”   


Hawke raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lip quirking. She didn’t correct him.  


“Bring me to Nuncio if you wish,” Zevran said with a shrug. “But I warn you: he surely intends to kill you. The crows do not like loose ends, unlike myself. But you are a woman who can clearly handle herself, yes? Why worry? So you can either tie me up, gag me, then manhandle me...or you can take me to Nuncio. Which will it be, I wonder?”  


Fenris realized he must have let out a little grunt of irritation, because Hawke threaded her fingers through his. “You’re very compliant for a fugitive,” Hawke said.   


“Compliant, yes, and very bendy. But truthfully, I know when I am outmatched. I would rather take my chances against the Crows.” Fenris couldn’t deny that the man had sense, at least.   


“I’m not going to hand you over to someone who lied to me,” Hawke said and she sounded annoyed.   


Zevran nodded, a faraway look passing over his face. “As wise as you are breathtaking. You remind me of...a very dear friend." He seemed to shake himself out of his reverie and was abruptly all smiles again. "As a suggestion, you might wish to deal with Nuncio. If you don’t, he will only come after you.” He gave a little bow. “It’s been more than a pleasure, my dear Champion. Fare you well.” He turned on his heel and disappeared back the way he had come, leaving the four of them with the dead varterral and the treasure scattered around. Hawke didn’t take any of it, she rarely did these days, insisting that the three of them fill their packs instead. Fenris knew that Varric often put a portion of what he collected into the investments he managed for Hawke without her knowing.   


Aveline grinned at a particularly large emerald.   


“That would go great with your coloring, Aveline,” Hawke teased her.  


Aveline blushed, making her freckles stand out. “I was thinking that this would let me bring the requisition mail down to Old Duranick to get repaired properly. I don’t like using the smith that Meredith wants us to use. He cuts corners.”  


“I hope you’re keeping some of that for you and Donnic,” Varric gently chastised her as they made their way out of the cave. “The City Guard doesn’t have much of a retirement package. You’ll need something when you’re too old to bash people with that shield.”  


Aveline chuckled. “We’ll be more than comfortable, don’t you worry, Varric.”  


Once they were outside, Hawke glanced up at the sun. “I think we could make it to the camp if we hurry,” she said. “I’d like to get this dealt with, if that’s all right with you three.”  


Fenris nodded, as did Varric and Aveline. They wasted no time in hurrying to the Antivan camp, where Hawke strolled up to Nuncio with the swagger that told Fenris just how angry she was.   


“I let your assassin go,” Hawke said without ceremony. “Was I not supposed to do that?”  


Nuncio’s eyes narrowed and Fenris prepared himself for a fight. “You had him and you let him go? I am thoroughly disappointed. No one fails the Crows and lives.”  


“Ah, poor, stupid Nuncio,” Fenris glanced over and saw Zevran strolling up with casual confidence. The other elf’s tone was jovial enough, but his eyes were icy. “The crows do like that saying, but I am living proof that it’s a lie.” He turned to Hawke and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “Why they insist on thinking that they can kill people like you and my warden I will never guess.”  


_His Warden?_ Fenris thought. He felt a sudden rush of sympathy for the other elf as the thought that he and the Hero of Fereldan might have been more than comrades at arms occurred to him. 

Hawke sighed theatrically. “Let me tell you, it’s a burden I bear on a daily basis.”  


“You are nothing but a traitor and a coward, Zevran,” Nuncio snarled. “You’ll die here!”  


One of Nuncio’s men had begun to move towards Zevran’s unprotected back, but before Fenris could react, Zevran whirled around and threw a knife at his would-be murderer, sticking him straight through the eye.   


“Yes, well,” Zevran said coldly. “Let’s see how that works out for you.”  


Fenris had to give credit where it was due; the Antivan Crows were the most well-renowned group of assassins for a reason. The battle was a difficult one, forcing Hawke to heal them all more than once. It was one of those moments, when her healing aura was active and she was casting the Group Heal that would restore all of them to full health, that a Crow got too close to her before Fenris could interpose himself between them. The assassin stabbed her with a wicked looking dagger, grinning at her as he jammed it in to the hilt and then knocked her derisively to the ground.   


“No! I will not allow it!” Fenris snarled. He tapped into his lyrium before he even knew what he was doing and rematerialized standing over Hawke, swinging his sword. The man’s head went thudding along the ground and Fenris dropped to his knees next to Hawke, panic filling him.   


“Saoirse!  


“I’m ok,” she grunted, reaching for his hand. “Armor caught most of it.” She tossed back a healing potion and then took a deep breath, whirling her staff. The blue glow of the Healing Aura was gone and he saw the telltale shimmer of her offensive magic play across her fingertips. Fenris gave a feral grin and moved away from her, his heart thudding. He attacked the Crow nearest to them as Hawke called down a storm of fire on Nuncio and the two men nearest to them, her wolf’s eyes wild with rage and pain.   


When she was done, all that was left of Nuncio was a charred corpse.   


Hawke leaned on her staff, panting, and Fenris hurried to her side.   


“Are you all right?” he asked her quietly.  


“Stupid…” she grunted. “It was stupid. Too focused on Healing. Lost track.” She straightened with a wince. “Hurt like a bitch, but it wasn’t deep and was shockingly free of poison.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be ok,” she promised, giving him a swift peck on the lips. “I promise.”  


Zevran strode over to them, a smile on his face. “Excellent, killing my former brothers-in-arms is oddly satisfying. I’ve little reward to offer you, Champion, but perhaps I could buy you and your friends a few drinks as recompense?”  


Hawke grinned at him. “I’d like that,” she said.   


“Turn down a chance to drink with an Antivan Crow?” Varric said. “I’d never forgive myself.”  


“As long as you don’t kill anyone while you’re here,” Aveline said sternly. She glanced at the bodies surrounding them. “Anyone else, at least.”  


Zevran chuckled. “I would not dream of threatening the people under the protection of such a lovely, fierce guardian,” he said, bowing to Aveline.   


Varric snorted. “You’re smarter than you look,” he said.  


Together they trooped through the waning light, down off Sundermount and back into Kirkwall where they got a table together at the Hanged Man. Isabela had all but squealed at the sight of the Antivan Crow, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a fierce hug. Zevran had hugged her back just as tightly and the two spoke softly for a moment.   


“You know each other?” Hawke asked, once they had sat down with the rest of them.  


“Zevran killed my husband!” Isabela said cheerfully, giving the elf a peck on the cheek.   


Zevran chuckled and he and Isabela took turns sharing what Fenris imagined was a heavily doctored version of how they had met, involving secret trysts, backstabbing, and a midnight escape to the sea.  


“Ah, ‘Bela,” Zevran said fondly. “How far you have come since those days in Antiva City. Though I must admit to being surprised that the Queen of the Eastern Seas has stayed so long in Kirkwall.”  


“Someone has to annoy Aveline,” Isabela said.  


Aveline rolled her eyes, shaking her head.   


Fenris watched Isabela’s glance flicker towards Hawke, even as the pirate gave Aveline a saucy smile.. He knew that Isabela still keenly felt the guilt of how her actions had led to Hawke’s brush with death at the hands of the Arishok. Hawke was as much a mooring for the pirate as she was for him.   


“So you knew the Hero of Fereldan?” Aveline asked, sounding a little breathless. “That must have been amazing. What was she like?”  


Fenris caught the flicker of agony that passed over the other man’s face. “She was everything the stories say,” he said, his voice quiet and almost reverent. “An elf. A mage. Beautiful. Fierce.” He smiled sadly. “She was kind, even when she had no cause to be. The world is less bright for her passing.” He raised his glass. “To fallen friends.”  


They all raised their glasses and drank and before Aveline could ask anything else, Isabela jumped in to tell them about the latest awful letter from the would-be poet. Fenris caught the grateful glance that Zevran gave her and realized that the pirate was trying to spare Zevran talking any more about the Hero.   


Together they sat, talking and laughing, until Zevran noted that their glasses were once more empty. Fenris offered to help and the two of them went up to the bar together. Zevran ordered a round of wine that was nicer than what their group usually imbibed, earning him a raised eyebrow from Nora.  


“I’ll have to go to the back to get it,” she said. “Won’t be a moment.”  


The two men stood in silence for a moment and Fenris watched the other elf. Zevran glanced in his direction. “Yes, my friend?”  


“I am sorry for your loss,” Fenris said quietly. “I can understand how it is to have people focus on the heroic deeds of the woman you love, rather than on who she truly is.”  


Zevran took a deep breath. “I can imagine that you would,” he said softly. “Your feelings for the Champion are quite clear. She is an impressive woman. She and my Warden would have gotten along I think.” His eyes grew shiny and he gave a wobbly smile. “My Surana would have appreciated finding someone else with her tendency to make a joke at the worst possible moment.” He closed his eyes and Fenris saw his Adam’s apple bob hard. “Ah, mi amora, te extraño todos los días.”   


Fenris didn’t speak more than a couple of phrases of Antivan, but the heartbreaking loss in Zevran’s voice required no translation.   


“I was with her in her final moments,” Zevran said, his eyes still tightly closed. “I shall never forget…” he shook his head and his eyes snapped open and the anguish in them hit Fenris like a punch to the gut. “It is a dangerous thing to love a hero, my friend.”  


Fenris nodded, thinking of how he’d felt aboard the Victory. “I know,” he said. 

“Then I hope that you will listen to the advice of a drunk, broken man,” Zevran said. The other elf’s eyes were a similar color to Saoirse’s, and for all that he claimed to be drunk, they were extremely clear and focused. “Cherish every moment. Burn them into your memory. Because should she fall doing the very things that made her the woman you loved in the first place, one day, you will wake up and the exact smell of her hair will elude you. Write her letters. Tell her the truth of what lies in your heart. Marry her, if she is amenable.” He gave a bitter little laugh. “To ask her to keep from danger would be to change something fundamental in her; it is an inevitability that she will one day take on a fight she cannot win. But when that happens, if you have spent your time together making sure she knows what she is to you...perhaps you will not be broken, as I was.”   


Fenris felt his throat tighten at the anguish in the other man’s voice and Zevran nodded. “Take nothing for granted, my friend,” he said sadly. He turned and smiled brightly to Nora, accepting two dusty bottles of wine. “Thank you, hermosa,” he said, winking at her and paying for the wine with a generous tip.   


Nora favored him with a rare smile and Zevran turned and strode back to the table, leaving Fenris to take the tray of glasses. At the table Zevran was all smiles as he poured for all of them and raised his glass once more. The group fell into an easy camaraderie, chatting and laughing for several hours. Aveline left before the hour got too late, citing her duties in the morning, leaving Fenris, Hawke, Isabela, and Varric with the assassin. It was late into the night when Zevran rose with a yawn.   


“Killing my former brothers at arms was exhilarating, but sadly, exhausting work,” he said. “I fear I must retire before all this good wine goes to my head and I attempt to carry the lovely Champion off to bed!”  


Hawke grinned at him as he swept low over her hand. “You shall always have a friend in me, my dear Champion,” he said. “Thank you again for your help today.” He turned to Isabela. “Hermosa, might an old friend prevail upon you for a place to rest his weary head?”  


Isabela smiled at him and tossed him her key. “Let me say goodnight to them and I’ll be up to make sure you get a good night’s sleep,” she teased.  


Zevran chuckled and bowed to them all, before turning and hurrying up the stairs.   


“Hawke, I know it’s late,” Varric said, “but can you come and sign some things for me? That way I can get them out first thing without having to wake up early and haul myself up to Hightown.”   


Hawke nodded and followed Varric up to his rooms, leaving Fenris with Isabela.   


“Are we sure he was part of a guild of assassins?” Fenris asked her with a wry smile.  


Isabela looked fondly in the direction Zevran had gone. “Before I met Hawke and all of you, Zev was one of the few people in this world I’d have called a real friend,” she said softly. “I owe him more than I can say.” She sighed. “I know he wouldn’t agree, but I almost wish he’d never met the Hero of Ferelden.”  


“It changed him,” Fenris said, knowing all too well what that was like.   


“It did,” Isabela said. “I knew it the first time I met her and saw them together. She caught me cheating at Wicked Grace, made me laugh. She was a pretty little thing. I offered to spend the night with the two of them and _Zev_ turned me down. And the way he looked at her...Maker. It was like he was a man who had been marooned on a desert island and suddenly she’d appeared with a ship and all the water he could drink. When she sacrificed herself it...broke him.”   


“He said as much,” Fenris said, feeling the ache in his chest that Zevran’s words had inspired. He watched Hawke emerge from Varric’s room.   


Isabela sighed and gave him a quick hug. “Take care of her,” she said. “Don’t you let her do something like that.”  


“Something like what?” Hawke said, grinning up at them both.  


“Like sneak off to my room,” Isabela said tartly. “You can’t have all the pretty elf men, Hawke!”  


Hawke chuckled and kissed her friend on the cheek before taking Fenris’ hand. The two of them began their walk towards Hightown in companionable silence.   


“Are you ok?” Hawke asked after awhile. “You’re awfully quiet.”  


Fenris squeezed her hand. “I know that it is late,” he said. “But could we make a stop before going home?”  


Hawke nodded and he turned down the alley that led to the docks. He didn’t speak until they stood in front of the statue of the Champion of Kirkwall.  


Hawke made a face as she looked up at it. “I hate this stupid thing,” she muttered.   


“I do not want this to be all I have left of you!” Fenris blurted out.  


Hawke blinked up at him before stepping close to him and bringing her hand up to his cheek. “Fenris? What’s wrong?”  


He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. But during their walk the simple feeling of her fingers threaded through his had only served to remind him how precious she was to him. He wanted a lifetime of those simple moments. “Did you know that Zevran and the Hero of Ferelden were lovers?” he asked. “That they were in love?”  


She shook her head, her face falling. “Shit,” she whispered. “I feel like an ass for bringing her up so often.”  


“Hawke, I love you for the woman you are,” Fenris said. “I would not want to change you. But Zevran spoke tonight of how you will inevitably take on a fight you cannot win _because_ of the woman you are.” He pulled her to himself hard, leaning his forehead against hers. “I have already almost lost you twice, Saoirse. Zevran calls himself a broken man. I know that I would be were I to lose you for good.”  


“Shhhh, love, I’m here,” her hands were in his hair, stroking him gently.  


“I do not want to lose you again,” he whispered. “I can’t, Hawke. Please just...promise me that you will remember that my heart beats with yours.” He kissed her hard, clutching her to him tightly. She made a soft sound and tightened her arms around him, letting him lean her against the statue. They were both breathing hard when he pulled back and took her face in his hands. “Promise me,” he rasped.   


“Fenris, the last thing I want is to leave you,” Hawke said, taking his hands. “And contrary to what everyone thinks, I don’t _actually_ have a death wish.” He felt her eyes on his, even in the darkness. “But I promise, Fenris. I will always try to come home to you.” She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “I have always tried, love. You’re my home too; I hope you know that.”  


He nodded, though his heart was still thudding. “Can we go home?” he asked. “I need you.”  


“Of course,” Hawke said. She took his hand and together they all but ran back to her mansion. He got her inside her rooms and shoved her against the door immediately, kissing her deeply. He tried to focus on the feeling of her body against him, the way she tasted, the way she sounded as she moaned softly against his lips, burning them into his memory as Zevran had suggested.   


“I’m here,” Hawke murmured against his lips, her gentle hands pulling his shirt up over his head before doing the same with her own. She pressed her body against him, letting him untie her breastband as she removed his belt and slid his trousers and smallclothes down over his hips. He stepped out of them as she slid her own trousers and smalls down and then pulled her back against him hard. He felt the cool metal of the wolf pendant against his chest and it grounded him slightly. He hadn’t lost her. They were home together. His hand still shook as they trailed up and down her spine. Hawke stepped back just slightly and took his hand, leading him over to her bed.   


Together they crawled under the covers where Fenris took her into his arms once more. Hawke draped her leg over his hip and guided his cock into her slowly, her lovely eyes fixed on his. She let out a quiet moan as he entered her and he kissed her, hugging her to himself as tightly as he could. They didn’t move, but lay there as one, kissing each other slowly and tenderly. Her warm hands were in his hair and on his back, lightly caressing him as he smoothed his hands up and down her back.   


“I’m yours,” she said, tightening her leg around his waist. “I always will be. Even if I-”  


Fenris kissed her hard, unable to hear her finish the sentence. Her lips parted beneath his and he growled into the kiss, reaching down to cup her ass. “No,” he rasped against her lips.   


“Fenris-”  


He rolled her on her back, cupping her face as he thrust into her. “I can’t,” he said. “Please.”  


She nodded, wrapping her legs around him. “I’m sorry,” she said.   


He kissed her again, pouring every bit of his love and desire into it as he snapped his hips against her. She threw her head back with a moan, and he took the opportunity to give her neck an open-mouthed kiss that ended in a soft nip. He felt her nails on his shoulder and grunted, the rhythm of his hips speeding up as she clenched around him.  


“Nothing-” he grunted, wrapping his arms around her, his hands digging into her back and hip, “nothing could be worse than-than the thought of living without you!” He crushed his lips to hers as he slammed into her to the hilt and then froze. She whimpered into the kiss and he moaned back, feeling her tighten around him. The kiss was a sloppy one, but he didn’t care, all that mattered was the feeling of her warm little body beneath him and her lips against his. His throat was tight when they finally broke away panting and he looked down at her. “Kadan,” he whispered, caressing her cheek. “I would be lost,” he said simply.   


Her golden eyes shone with tears as she looked up at him. “Fenris?”   


“Saoirse?”  


“You have to promise me something too,” she said.  


Fenris felt his stomach drop. “Do I?” he growled back.  


Hawke’s eyes narrowed and she rolled beneath him. He could have stopped her, of course, but he let her roll him onto his back. She arched her back, groaning as she sank down onto his cock, and for a moment Fenris lost any thoughts that were in his head as he watched her. Her hard nipples jutted out as she rocked her hips and the wolf pendant caught the firelight. He leaned up and sucked one of her tempting nipples into his mouth, his hand splaying across her back.   


“Fenris!” she gasped, her hands soft and gentle in his hair. “Promise me...promise me that even if I die, you’d keep living.”  


He growled around her nipple before letting it pop from his mouth so that he could suck on the other.   


She let out a deep moan, the motion of her hips stuttering. He felt her give his hair a gentle tug. “Fenris, please.”  


Unable to look at her, Fenris sat up, hugging her and letting her settle into his lap. “Hawke-”  


“Promise that you would stick with Varric,” she continued. “That even if you left Kirkwall, you would keep in touch with him. I don’t want your life to end when mine does.”  


“How can you ask me that?” Fenris whispered against her neck, shaking his head.   


“You’d ask the same thing for me,” she said. “You know that you would.”  


Fenris grunted, reaching down and squeezing her ass. She wasn’t wrong and he knew it. “I promise,” he said, finally looking up and meeting her eyes. “I promise that I would try.”  


Hawke nodded into the kiss. “Me too,” she whispered against his lips. He kissed her, pulling her down onto the bed and lovingly rolling her onto her back. He thrust into her deeply, his lips never leaving hers. His place was frantic, driven by the awful thoughts brought on by his conversation with Zevran. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not after everything that they had been through to find their way back to each other.  


“Fenris! I’m close,” she moaned as he ground against her. He draped her knees over her arms, bending her in half so he could press her against him harder. “Oh fuck! Fenris!”  


“Saoirse!” he felt the heat pooling in his belly as she began to spasm beneath him. He followed immediately behind her, growling her name as he thrust in and out. Finally he collapsed on top of her, nuzzling into her neck. She trailed her fingers up and down his back.   


“She must have been an amazing woman,” Hawke said quietly. “She was so brave, to sacrifice herself like that.”   


“Don’t get any ideas,” he rumbled.   


She smiled, rubbing her nose against his. “I love you, Fenris. I promise that I’ll always do my best to come back to you.”  


“You had better,” he said, hugging her tightly. He pulled back just slightly and ran his hand down her body, brushing his fingertips over the slightly pink skin that was the only evidence of the wound she’d sustained earlier. She flinched a little, closing her fingers around his.   


“I’m ok, love,” she said. “I’m here.” Her golden eyes searched his as her lips quirk into a smile. “You saved my life...again.” She kissed him. “How can I repay you?”  


He felt himself smile at her. “Incorrigible as ever,” he said, reaching up to cup her cheeks. The sight of her looking at him with the mischievous look that always spelled trouble eased some of the tension that had been gripping him. He kissed her back deeply, grunting as she clenched around him. “Minx!” He growled, tightening his arms around her.   


“Mmmm, _your minx_ ,” she said.   


“Yes,” he agreed, nuzzling into her neck. They remained that way for several minutes until sleep was threatening to claim Fenris before Hawke shifted and murmured his name. He propped his head up on his elbow and looked down at her. “What is it, Kadan?”  


She smiled ruefully up at him. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” she said. “And after our conversation tonight...it feels like a good time.”  


“Very well,” Fenris said, feeling a flutter of nerves in his belly. He slid out of Hawke, trying not to get distracted by the way his cock twitched at the sight of her dripping. Together they cleaned up with the ewer and basin, tenderly washing each other before each donning a light woolen robe. Fenris sat down on the end of the bed while Hawke went to her desk and unlocked the large center drawer. She pulled out a sheaf of papers and returned to the bed, plopping down next to him and tucking her legs up under herself.  


“Varric made me write a will,” she said without preamble and Fenris felt his heart sink. “He doesn’t know anything you don’t!” she said, reaching out and taking his hand. “I’m not dying of a wasting disease or something, not that I know of anyway.”   


Fenris squeezed her hand, nodding as some of the tension lifted.  


Hawke shrugged one shoulder. “But I...I know that I often find myself in danger. I know that what Zevran said to you was not wrong. I will more than likely not die in my sleep in the golden years of my life. I’ll probably die bloody and unexpectedly.” Her lips curled in a smile that wobbled and Fenris scooted closer to her to wrap his arm around her waist. She leaned against him and took a deep breath. 

“Should that happen...I want to be sure that the people I love are cared for. To that end…” she handed him the second page of the will and Fenris read it aloud.  


“And to my partner Fenris Tethras-Vallen, I leave half of my total assets, including the Hawke estate, provided that all staff are allowed to remain on premises as they desire. Should staff prefer to leave upon my death, the Hawke Estate will provide five years wages as severance. Should Fenris Tethras-Vallen also prefer not to remain in the Hawke Estate, ownership will pass to Varric Tethras, who will oversee its sale and care of its staff...”   


He trailed off as the parchment began to shake and he looked over at her, wide-eyed. He knew that Hawke had become a wealthy woman after her journey to the Deep Roads and that under Varric’s tutelage she had only increased her personal wealth. And while she would occasionally splurge on things like her bathing chamber or his new wardrobe, she wasn’t inclined to lavish spending. Just from what he had gleaned from conversations with her and Varric, he’d guess that she was easily the fiscal equal of the upper echelon of landed gentry in the Free Marches.   


“Hawke,” he croaked. “I can’t-”  


“You can,” she said firmly. “And you will. Money has power, Fenris. It is _freedom_. It’s why I haven’t had to marry some obnoxious noble and instead get to shack up with my handsome elf boyfriend and no one can do _shit_ about it.” Her eyes had taken that hard edge that reminded him of the hungry wolves that slunk around the edges of campsites, just outside the reach of the firelight. “Let me do this for you so that no matter what happens, I can be at peace knowing that the man I love is safe and free and well taken care of.”  


Fenris struggled to speak through the lump that had formed in his throat. The gift that Saoirse was giving him was an extraordinary one and he would not insult her or what they had built by denying her. “Thank you, Saoirse,” he managed to rasp. “I-I do not take it lightly. It will take me time to grow accustomed to the idea, but I-” he shook his head. “I do not even know what to say.”  


“You don’t have to say anything,” Hawke said, taking the papers and returning them to their place in the desk. She rejoined him on the bed. “Once I’m worm food it’s not like I’ll need the money.”  


Fenris flinched and caught the wince on Hawke’s face.   


“Sorry,” she said softly. “I just mean…I can’t take it with me. I want it to do good.” She crawled into his lap, wrapping her legs around him and leaning her forehead against his. “If it makes you feel better, I left something for everyone.”  


Oddly, it did make him feel a little better. “Oh?” he asked, taking her in his arms.  


“Well, yeah," she said like it was obvious. "I left money for the guard, as well as money for Aveline and Donnic's personal use so the woman can eventually retire. I left money for Isabela to put towards buying a ship, money for Anders and Merril to go to ground or use as they see fit here, I even donated to the chantry and the Wardens for Sebastian and Carver. And Varric..." She shook her head, her eyes growing shiny. "Well, he knows what I've left him." She took a shuddering breath and shook her head. "I just wanted everyone to have something nice to remember me by," she said with a shrug and a lopsided smile. "Beyond that, I left Orana money to go into trade, as well as money for Bodahn and Sandal to expand the business they had before Bodahn pledged himself to my service. I left Mrs. Marsh enough to retire on.” She smiled to herself and it warmed Fenris’ heart. The utter kindness of her consideration reminding him once again how lucky he was to have found her and to have earned her love.  


“What is it?” she asked, brushing his hair off his forehead.  


“You are a good woman,” he said quietly.  


She pulled such a face that he found himself chuckling. “You can’t tell anyone,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper. “I have a reputation to maintain.”  


Fenris kissed her, cupping her cheeks in his hands and loving the curve of her smile against his lips. “Truly, Hawke,” he said when they had pulled back. He wanted to make her understand how meaningful it was to him that her household staff were being looked after in such a way. “In my last life, tending to one’s household staff would have meant portioning them out along with the rest of one’s assets, not making sure that they themselves were taken care of.” He shook his head. “It is a reminder of how far I have come from my old life, and how fortunate I am to have found you when I did.” He looked into her eyes and forced himself to say the next part, even though it galled him. “Hawke...I promise you that if something were to happen to you...I would do everything in my power to make sure they were all all right before I left.”  


“You say ‘before you left’ like it is a certainty,” Hawke said, sounding sad. “You wouldn’t stay in Kirkwall? Not even for Varric?”  


Fenris sighed. “I do not think I could, Hawke,” he said. “Kirkwall is my home now, but I am...self-aware enough to know that a large part of that is because you are here. If I were to lose you...living in a place where almost every memory I have is tied to what we have shared...it would be too much, I think. I would have to leave if I were to have any hope of fulfilling my promise to you of continuing to live.”  


“Oh love,” Hawke whispered, gently pressing on his chest. He let her push him backwards on the bed, hugging her as she stretched out on top of him. They kissed tenderly and she snuggled under his chin. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she said. “But I am so grateful.”  


“I feel the same way, “Fenris said quietly. They stayed that way for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts before Hawke shifted sleepily on top of him.  


“Fenris?”  


“Mmmm?”  


“Promise me that you’ll at least do something fun with some of the money,” Hawke said. “Even if it’s just spending a few nights at the Rose.”  


Fenris shook his head, knowing from the sound of her voice that she was smiling. “What would be the point?” he asked with exaggerated moroseness. “Having had you, how can any other woman ever hope to satisfy me?”   


With that he flipped her on her back and looked down at her, loving the way she gasped and grinned up at him.   


“Having had me, eh?” she said, running her hands up and down his arms.   


“Indeed,” he said, reaching down and undoing the tie of her dressing gown. He let it fall open and took one of her nipples into his mouth. She arched up into him with a moan and he used the opportunity to wrap his arms around her. He sucked and licked her nipple, finishing by catching it gently in his teeth. She let out a guttural groan, her fingers threading through his hair as he let her nipple slip from his mouth and kissed her breast. He dragged his lips across to her other breast and repeated his actions until she was whimpering and moaning his name.   


“No other woman could taste as you do,” he breathed, kissing down her stomach and taking hold of her hips.   


She parted her legs for him, her breath coming quickly. “If you call me ‘caramel’ again, I swear to the Maker-”  


He licked from the bottom of her slit to the top, grinning to himself as she cried out. “No,” he growled against her swollen folds. “But delicious nonetheless, made all the sweeter by knowing that you are mine.”  


“All yours,” she panted, reaching above her head to grasp the pillows. He knew she was doing it to keep from grabbing his hair and he warmed all the way through at the consideration she always showed him. He took her clit in his mouth, sucking and licking hard and fast. He had to grab on to her hips as she bucked against him, crying out his name, and he felt a raw satisfaction at the desperation he could hear in her voice. She made him feel so wild, so uncontrolled, so desperate for every last gasp and whimper and tremble that went through her body.   


“Fenris! I-oh fuck you drive me fucking crazy!” She writhed beneath him, almost as though she was trying to escape his touch, her body taut and beginning to glisten with sweat. He held her there at the precipice for as long as he could, loving that fact that he now knew how to prolong her pleasure. It meant everything to him to give her that.  


“Please-please Fenris please make me cum I can’t fucking take it anymore!”  


He growled and redoubled his efforts, flattening his tongue and slurping obscenely at her dripping center. He felt her body suddenly go rigid and then she was wailing and thrashing and filling his senses with the taste and smell of her pleasure. He backed off just slightly as she moaned and shuddered, smoothing his hands over her hips and belly.   


“You are so beautiful,” he said, tenderly kissing the insides of thighs and smiling as she twitched and moaned. “My beautiful Saoirse.” He glanced up and saw her watching him, her expression vulnerable. “I cannot get enough of you,” he said, giving her thigh a sloppy kiss. “I cannot get enough of the feeling of your body beneath mine.” He kissed her again, watching her to be sure she was still enjoying it. Her eyes widened with his words and she smiled bashfully down at him, her hand sliding down over her belly and the scar from the Arishok. He caught her hand and squeezed it, pushing up onto his elbows and leaning forward so that he could kiss the scar.   


Suddenly he was back in the Viscount’s Keep, watching the massive blade lift her into the air and hearing the awful cry of pain as her body struck the ground. He had almost lost her then and when he looked up her body, he saw the scar that spanned her throat he saw the evidence of the other time he had almost lost her. He felt the blood strike his face and saw her beautiful eyes go wide with shock.   


_To ask her to keep from danger would be to change something fundamental in her; it is an inevitability that she will one day take on a fight she cannot win._  


_Not so long as I am here to protect her,_ he thought fiercely. He moved up her body quickly and crushed his mouth to hers, wrapping his arms around her as tight as he could. His cock was hard after giving her her pleasure, though the fears that had beset him threatened to unman him all together.   


“Hawke?” he whispered against her lips as he kissed her desperately.  


“I’m yours,” she replied, wrapping her legs around his waist.   


With a moan he thrust into her, burying himself completely in one long stroke as he kissed her as though the world was ending around them. Her arms were tight around him as she caressed his back, rocking her hips into his frenzied thrusts.   


“Hawke!”   


He was gratified to see that resuming their sparring had sharpened her, because she surprised him by abruptly twisting out from under him and rolling him on his back. He moaned as she sank down onto his cock, her lovely eyes fixed on his. He knew immediately that she had surmised some of the source of his desperation when she took his hand and placed it over the Arishok scar.   


“I’m...I’m still here,” she panted, her hips working in tight, rapid circles. “Please don’t mourn me before I’m gone, Fenris.”  


He reached for her and she responded, leaning down and kissing him hard, moaning against his lips as he slid one hand behind her to grab her ass. She gave a wanton little growl and grinned, then pulled back just slightly and looked at him. “I’m still here,” she whispered, taking hold of his other hand. Her eyes never left his as she brought his hand to her throat and wrapped it around so that the hard edges of her scar pressed against his palm. “I’m still here,” she said again. “I-I have always fought to come back to you and I always will. I swear it, Fenris!” She tightened her hand around his and his breath caught in his throat as he felt the steady beat of her pulse against his fingers.   


It was as though a dam broke within him and he heard himself snarl as he lurched up and kissed her, wrapping her legs around his waist and grunting as she sank into his lap. He could feel her dripping on him, could hear his pulse pounding in his ears as he kept his hand wrapped around her throat. He held her eyes as he pumped up into her and she met him thrust for thrust, tilting her head back and baring her throat to him.   


“Hawke, I-I’m close!” he growled, tightening his hand.   


Her lip curled into a silent snarl as she looked down at him. “Good!”   


He felt her pulse against his palm and its rhythm spurred him onward until he found himself howling her name, his body tightening so hard that it was almost painful. Everything vanished from his awareness, apart from the beat of her heart and the wild pleasure that filled every potion of his being.   


When he returned to himself, he was panting against her collarbone, her warm hands caressing his back and threading through his hair. He realized that his hand was still at her throat and he jerked back guiltily, only to hear her give a soft laugh. “I started it,” she said quietly. She leaned back and looked at him with worried eyes. “That got...intense,” she said, caressing his cheek. “Are you ok?”  


He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he kissed her deeply and pulled her down onto the bed. He took her into his arms, kissing her along her jaw, down to her collarbone, and back up over the scar on her throat. Eventually he found her lips again and the two of them shared a long, languid kiss.   


“Love?” she said, her breath fluttering against his face. “Are you ok?”  


“I am,” he said, pulling her against him so that she rested her head on his chest. He kissed her curls. “Are you?”  


“Mmmmmm,” she replied, wrapping her arm around his waist and draping her leg over his. “Having you be that way with me…” he felt her shiver and felt a fission of shame go through him.   


“I am sorry,” he said.  


“What?” she propped herself up on her elbow and in the dying firelight he could see that a blush colored her cheeks. “No! No, you angsty porcupine, you don’t understand, I LOVED it!”  


“I am _not_ angsty,” he grumbled. He glanced down and caught her looking up at him. “And you did?”  


She smiled up at him. “Fenris, you already know that I like that you are, how did you describe it, feral? Feral with me. I love seeing you lose control.” She hugged him and kissed the underside of his chin. “You’re always so gentle with me. But I really don’t mind things getting a little rough.”  


Fenris felt his cock give a tired twitch at her words. “I never want to hurt you,” he said softly. “But perhaps another night we could explore that thought in more depth.”   


“Mmmmm, yes please,” Hawke murmured sleepily.   


Fenris hugged her and rested his cheek on the top of her head as she began to snore. He inhaled deeply as Zevran’s words echoed through his head.   


_one day, you will wake up and the exact smell of her hair will elude you…_  


His throat tightened and he clenched his eyes shut, willing the assassin's words away. He had promised Hawke that he would remain ever at her side, where he could protect her. He would not allow her to be taken from him.  


Never again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Friends! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. I actually have a question for anyone who would like to answer. Obviously we have some major plot points ahead of us, but apart from those things...is there anything in particular that you guys would like to see as this story progresses? I have my outline, but we are slightly past the halfway point and I'd love to know if there's anything you'd like to see more or less of. If things are trucking along just fine for you, that's great also! But if this is getting stale for anyone, I'd rather know. :) I'm still having a blast writing it, for what it's worth. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, as always, and I hope my minor tweaks to cannon sat all right with everyone. My Surana actually lives in my personal cannon, but given the overall trajectory of the series and what we learn about Ameridan, I feel having an elf mage HOF make the final sacrifice is kind of perfect. Even if it breaks Zevran's heart. Which breaks my heart.
> 
> Anyway, enough of my rambling! I look forward to seeing you in the next chapter! It's looking like it's going to be another fluffy one before we start getting into companion quest focused chapters and, of course, endgame.


	32. A Wedding at the Castle *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke attends August and Mazin's wedding where she gets some happy news. Left without Hawke for the first night since his abduction, Fenris finds himself thinking about their future and what freedom might mean.

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Hawke said, looking at Fenris’ reflection in her mirror as she smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. She’d spent the better part of an hour getting ready for August and Mazin’s wedding and she was pleased with the result. She looked like any Ferelden farmer who’d donned her Feastday best. Edwina had made her a simple dress of a beautiful heather green wool that hugged the top part of her body before falling away in a simple skirt that stopped just before the ground. Orana had embroidered the fitted bodice with a simple pattern of leaves, with a similar pattern around the hem of the skirt. Hawke had no interest in standing out at this event, but she still wanted to look nice, and she thought she’d managed to find the right balance.  


“I truly think that it would be best if you went with Varric,” he said, with a wry smile. “I know that it was not specified in the invitation, but I feel it would be in poor taste for me to be your date.” His expression grew heated as he stepped close and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Especially since I am finding it hard to keep my hands off of you in this dress,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear.   


Hawke shivered and turned into his touch, catching his lips with her own. “Thank you for understanding,” she said, rubbing her nose against his. The truth was, she agreed with him. But he was her partner and it hadn’t felt right to simply exclude him without talking it out. “You know that if it were any other event you would be my ‘plus-one’. I just don’t think that would be right to do to Jacob.”  


He kissed her cheek. “I know,” he said. “And I agree. You and Varric will have fun.”  


“Did you make any plans?” she asked, turning back and giving herself one more critical look before stepping away from the mirror.   


Fenris shook his head. “Nothing in particular,” he said. “Isabela invited me down for drinks and Donnec wants to get in a game of Diamondback while Aveline is on patrol.” He smiled at her. “I can occupy myself for a night, Hawke, you needn’t worry.”  


She stepped close to him and draped her arms over his shoulders, her fingernails tracing delicately over the back of his neck. “So you aren’t going to miss me?” she asked with exaggerated innocence. She felt him shiver and then his arms were around her, pulling her against him tightly.   


“I do not recall saying that,” Fenris growled. She caught her breath at the look in his eyes as he stared down at her with a rakish smile. “Surely you can feel how much you will be missed?” he said, pressing the prominent bulge in his trousers against her.   


Hawke moaned quietly, sliding her hand down his chest and over his stomach, gently brushing her palm down over his hard length.   


He hissed against her lips. “Hawke-”  


“Yes?” she said, kissing along his jaw and down his neck. She held his eyes while she loosened the laces that held the collar of his shirt closed and then licked his collarbone. She saw his throat work as he swallowed hard, and she gave him a mischievous grin as she began to kiss down over his chest and the flat plane of his stomach. She loved the soft rumble of his moan as she unlaced his trousers and slid them and his smalls down over his hips, freeing his cock.   


“Is this all right?” she asked, remembering how he had reacted the first time she’d tried to suck him in that way.  


His breath was coming quickly as he nodded. “I trust you,” he whispered raggedly. His gaze was both loving and full of desire as he looked down at her. “And I cannot pretend that you do not look...lovely like that.”  


She batted her eyelashes up at him. “On my knees in front of you, you mean?” she teased, leaning forward and licking the beads of wetness that awaited her. “Ready to suck your cock?”  


He let out a quiet growl.   


“You can say it, Fenris,” she pressed. “If you like it.” She gave him a genuine smile. “Or if you don’t, I can stop. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”  


“No,” he rumbled, brushing his fingers through her hair. “I do not feel about it as I once did, Hawke. I understand how this meant from you. You are showing me love, and trust in putting yourself in such a vulnerable position." His full lips curled into a hungry smile. "There is nothing ugly or demeaning in you on your knees in front of me, Saoirse.”  


She kissed the tip of his cock again, letting his wetness coat her lips as she looked up at him. “So you _do_ like it.”  


He shook his head. “I _love_ it, Kadan. I am a fortunate man.” His jade eyes narrowed and his expression turned hungry. “It shall take a great deal of self-control to be gentle with you,” he said quietly.   


Hawke heard herself gasp as she looked up at him, knowing that his need was mirrored in her eyes. “You don’t have to be,” she replied, feeling how slick his words made her. Maker, she loved the idea of him not being quite so gentle with her.   


“I do,” Fenris said tenderly. “This time, at least. You are going to be gone overnight and I would prefer anything we do that is less than gentle have ample time afterwards for me to make you feel...safe. And cherished.”  


“I love you,” Hawke said as she warmed all the way through at his words. “Thank you for that, for being you.” She felt her eyes beginning to prickle and not wanting to totally ruin the mood she gave him her sassiest smile and leaned forward to drag the flat of her tongue over the head of his cock. “I’ll miss you too, so you know,” she said before sucking the head of his cock into her mouth.  


He cried out, his strong hands tightening on her head as she slowly ran her tongue around the tip of his cock, paying special attention to where it met the shaft. Slowly she began to work her way down his length, sucking gently as she pulled more and more of him into her mouth. She paused once she reached the base, breathing through her nose as his length threatened to gag her. She looked up and saw him watching her with the most tender expression on his face, and he reached down to brush the back of his hand over her cheek.   


“You are so beautiful,” he said softly.   


She let him slide out of her mouth, feeling the warmth of a blush on her cheeks. “How like a man to say that while your cock is down my throat,” she teased, wrapping one hand around the base of his cock. He let out a breathless laugh that trailed off into a moan as she began to stroke him.  


“Hawke!” he groaned when she took him back in her mouth, her hand still working. He parted his legs, his hands on her head as she increased her pace. He didn’t pull her or try to push deeper, just held her while she drove him inexorably towards the edge. She felt herself growing increasingly wet and swollen as she sucked him, loving the quiet sounds he made and the way that his hands clenched when she tightened her lips around the head of his cock.   


“Saoirse!” he moaned as she cupped his balls with her free hand. “Kadan, you’re going to make me-”  


Hawke growled around him and sucked faster, tightening her hand around the base of his cock as she slurped up and down as hard and fast as she could. Fenris went rigid above her before letting out a great cry and doubling over, his hands slipping from her head to dig into her shoulders. She held him as deep in her mouth as she could as his cock jerked, his cum coating the back of her mouth and throat. He was panting when he straightened and he let out a sound almost like a whimper when she swallowed around him. She let him slip from her mouth and kissed the tip of his cock, a breathless laugh from him as he reached down and pulled her to her feet. He pulled her against him and kissed her deeply, lifting her up and carrying her over to the bed.  


“Fenris! Dylan will be here soon!” she said with a giggle.   


He lay her down and stood over her, a smile on his lips. “I suppose I had better hurry then,” he said mildly. He dropped to his knees and pushed the skirt of her dress up, hissing when he saw her smalls.   


“You were going to have to change these anyway,” he said in the low rumble that always made the desire pool in her belly. He stroked his fingertips over her through her smalls, then leaned in and kissed her.   


Hawke arched her back, moaning. He skimmed his hands up her legs and took hold of her smalls, jerking them off of her in one swift motion. She gasped and propped herself up on her elbows to look down at him. He smiled at her and kissed the inside of her thigh before leaning closer and dragging the flat of his tongue from the bottom of her slit up to her clit. He wasted no time in grinding his tongue against her, his calloused fingers gently parting her lips to give him more access.   


“Fenris!” Hawke gasped, her hands fisting on the coverlet as he licked and sucked her in a relentless pace. “Oh fuck, Fenris you feel so fucking good!”  


He made a quiet sound and licked faster, gently parting her lips even further and exposing more of her clit. It was overwhelmingly sensitive, especially after sucking him, and before she knew it Hawke was clenching her eyes shut and gripping the coverlet so hard that it hurt.  


“I-I’m going to-Fenris! Maker, please, please don’t stop I need it please-”  


One of his hands left her aching cunt and found her hand, gently lifting it from the bed and bringing it to the back of his head.  


Hawke gasped, arching up and looking down at him. His beautiful eyes were fixed on hers and deliberately darted to her hand that remained on the bed. It shook as she lifted it to slide her fingertips through his hair. “Are you-are you sure?” she panted.   


He pulled back, making her groan at the sudden pause. “Yes,” he said softly before burying his face between her folds once more.   


Hawke cried out and wrapped her legs around his back, her hands shaking as she held his head to her wet heat, her hips rocking in tight, desperate circles. “Fenris!” 

She felt him flatten his tongue against her and then her world went white as pleasure exploded within her, making her thrash and writhe, screaming his name. She didn’t know how long he held her in that blissful place before he pulled back and crossed to her wardrobe. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face as he selected a pair of smalls and brought them to her with what could only be called a smug smile on his face.   


“Thank you,” she whispered and hoped he knew that it was for more than just making her cum.  


The warmth in his gaze told her that her meaning was taken and he grasped her forearm and pulled her to a sitting position before kissing her deeply.   


“I love you,” she whispered against his lips. “I will miss you tonight. I’m used to sleeping with you.”  


He let out a quiet chuff of laughter and Hawke swatted his arm.   


“I will miss you as well, Kadan,” he said softly. He helped her stand and pulled her into a tight hug. “I love you,” he whispered into her ear and Hawke melted against him, throwing her arms around her neck and kissing him hard. She couldn’t have said how long she was kissing him when she heard Bodahn knock on the door.  


“Mistress, Dylan is here with the carriage.”  


"Coming, Bodahn!" Regretfully, Hawke extricated herself from Fenris’ embrace and looked up at him. “How do I look?” she asked softly, smiling up at him.  


“You are lovely,” Fenris said. “No one will know that I was able to enjoy you before you went.”  


Hawke gasped, eyes widening, and Fenris grinned impishly.   


She shook her head, laughing, and let him walk her down to the front door. Varric was leaning against the doorjamb chatting with Bodahn and he gave her a warm smile.   


He was wearing a teal version of his usual doublet with dark gray pants and his auburn hair was brushed to a dull shine. “My lady,” he said, bowing with a flourish.  


“M’lord,” Hawke said, dipping into a curtsey. She turned and gave Fenris a hug, feeling the tension in his arms as he held her close. She knew that he trusted Jacob insofar as he trusted anyone that wasn’t her or Varric. But she was spending the night at the castle and she knew it had him a little on edge.  


“Have fun,” Fenris said softly.   


She kissed him gently and leaned her forehead against his. “You too,” she said. “Try not to get into too much trouble without me.”  


“No promises,” he teased.   


Together the three of them walked out to the carriage, hurrying to escape the cold, spitting rain. Fenris handed her up, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze before releasing them. Varric clambered up behind and she heard Dylan cluck to the horses. She smiled at Fenris out the window as the carriage lurched away.   


“You’re sure that he’s all right with this?” Varric asked. “Sending you back to the castle without him, I mean.”  


“‘All right’ is probably an overstatement,” Hawke admitted. “But he doesn’t want to make things weird.” She sighed. “Not that things won’t be a little weird anyway,” she said. “It’s my first time back at the castle since Jacob and I ended things. And I’m sure he figures Fenris and I are back together, especially after Fenris went to see him. I just hope it isn’t terrible.”  


“I know, Sweetheart,” Varric said, reaching out and taking her hand. “But Jacob is a good man and the two of you build a real friendship before anything else. I think that once you get past the initial weirdness things should be fine.”  


“I hope that you’re right,” Hawke said with feeling. The truth was, she missed the castle and its inhabitants.   


“I’m always right,” Varric said loftily.  


“You mean like that time you got us wrapped up in a Qunari plot that almost got me eaten by a wyvern?” Hawke replied mildly.  


Varric put his hand over his heart, his heavy brows furrowing. “You wound me, Hawke!”  


She grinned at him and his answering smile was warm.   


“So...has the broody elf officially moved in?” Varric asked a little slyly.  


Hawke felt the tops of her cheeks color. “No,” she said. “It’s good for him to have somewhere that is just his. I won’t ask him to give that up.”  


“He’s always at your house, though,” Varric said, grinning.  


Hawke shrugged, unable to keep the smile from her face.   


Varric reached out and took her hand. “I’m glad the two of you are so happy,” he said, his warm, gray eyes holding hers. “It’s about time, if you ask me.”  


“I didn’t,” she teased, squeezing his hand. “But thank you. I can’t remember the last time I was so happy.”  


“You deserve it, Hawke,” Varric said with uncharacteristic seriousness. “Every bit.”  


“Thanks, Varric,” she said, feeling her throat get tight. “I hope that you know-”  


“I know, Hawke,” he said. “You too.”  


They sat that way for a few moments before letting go of each other and sitting back.   


“I told Fenris about my will,” Hawke said.  


Varric raised an eyebrow. “And how did he take that?”  


Hawke sighed, thinking of times she’d caught Fenris staring at her like he was trying to memorize every inch of her. “Talking to Zevran got to him,” she explained. “Did you know he and the Hero of Fereldan were lovers?”  


Varric nodded. Of course he knew. “Isabela told me,” he said. “Did Zevran say something to Fenris?”  


“Apparently,” Hawke said. She recounted to Varric what Fenris had told her and the dwarf let out a low whistle.  


“I bet that freaked him right the fuck out,” he said.   


“It did,” Hawke said. “But since we were already talking about me dying, I figured it was a good time to tell him about the will.”  


Varric snorted. “You know what I love the most about you, Hawke? Your tact.”  


She wrinkled her nose at him. “I made him promise to stay in touch with you if something happens to me,” she said softly, unable to bring herself to look at her best friend. “I don’t think he’ll stay in Kirkwall past making sure my staff are taken care of, but he promised. Will you-”  


“Yes,” Varric said, his tone firm. “You know that, Hawke. But it isn’t going to be an issue because you’re all done giving me gray hairs. Right?”   


“They make you look so distinguished though,” Hawke teased, peeking at him from under her eyelashes.   


“I’m being serious, Hawke,” Varric said and there was something in his voice that made her meet his eyes. His eyebrows had drawn together and there were lines at the corners of his eyes. “You know that I will do what I can for Fenris, for all of our friends. But I’d like you to help. And to do that, you need to be alive.” He shook his head. “We’ve had too many close calls these past few years,” he said softly.   


Hawke scooted forward and caught him in a hug. “I promise I’ll try, Varric,” she said, leaning her forehead against his.  


“Do better than try,” he growled, his wide, strong hands tight on her back. “Do you hear me?”  


“Yes, Varric,” she whispered past the lump in her throat. She kissed his cheek and he surprised her by cupping hers and looking into her eyes.   


“I can’t watch you die again,” he said, his voice hoarse.   


She didn’t realize that the tears had started until she felt his thumb brush them away. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.  


“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Be alive. All right?”  


She nodded and her lips wobbled when he kissed her forehead. She rose and lurched across the space between them, plopping down next to him and putting her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and they remained that way until they heard the distinctive sound of the carriage wheels rolling over the castle drawbridge.   


Hawke sat up, her heart suddenly leaping up into her throat.  


“It’ll be all right, Sweetheart,” Varric said softly.  


The carriage rolled to a stop and in the distance Hawke could hear the cheerful sound of fiddles playing and a thrum of voices. Varric hopped down from the carriage first and after taking a final breath to steady herself, Hawke lighted from the carriage.   


The massive doors to the Great Hall were thrown open wide, and a fire was burning in the cavernous fireplace. The hall was filled to the brim with people, an alarming number of whom had paused their conversations to turn and look.  


She saw Jacob emerge from the throng and she was thrilled to see a huge, genuine smile on his face. He swept her up in a hug that all but crushed the air from her lungs. “Saiorse!”   


She hugged him back. “It’s good to see you, Jacob!” she said and hoped that he knew she meant it.  


“You as well,” he said. “Welcome back to the ‘fucking castle’.”   


They smiled at each other and it felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders...and her heart.   


“It’s good to see you as well, Varric,” Jacob said, reaching out to shake the dwarf’s hand.  


“Likewise, Jacob,” Varric replied, giving Jacob’s hand a hearty shake.   


“You look well,” she said as Jacob led her back to where a makeshift dais had been erected.  


“I am,” he said, glancing down at her. “After the ceremony, once August has had a chance to hug you, which...I warn you, he plans to, could we talk?”  


Hawke nodded, forcing herself not to glance at Varric. Jacob clapped her on the shoulder and then hurried off to where a kindly looking old woman was standing chatting with August and Mazin. After a quarter bell or so of chatting, the officiant gestured for everyone’s attention.   


“My Dear Friends!” she said with a thick Starkhaven accent. “We are here today to celebrate the union of these two lovely boys as they enter into the next stage of their life together!”  


There was a hearty cheer at that, one that Hawke was happy to join in. It took a moment for the sound to die down and the officiant gave everyone a mock stern look. “If you cannae be quiet, these boys will never be wed!”  


There was good natured rumbling, but the noise subsided as she bade August and Mazin to take each other’s hands. Soon the only sounds were her voice and Mrs. Rush’s soft sniffling.   


“The two young men before me have chosen to unite their lives and be joined in the eyes of Man and the Maker,” she said. “Together they have battled grave illness and injury and have proven to all who know them their devotion to one another. They have written their own vows.”  


Mazin took a deep breath and reached into the pocket of his burgundy woolen doublet, covered with Orana’s distinctive embroidery, and produced a simple silver ring.   


“August, when we met I had been left behind by my family to die. You helped me, a stranger who could offer you nothing. You showed me then the kind of man you are and while it took me longer than it should have to realize the nature of my feelings for you, the time was well worth it. It let me come to know your kindness, your sense of humor, and the deep joy you take in bringing joy to others. I am a better man for having met you, and I can only hope to one day be the man you deserve.” Mazin smiled, his dark eyes shiny with tears. “I intend on spending the rest of my life trying.”  


Mrs. Rush gave a soft sob and Hawke saw Jacob hand her a handkerchief and put an arm around her shoulder. Neriel was dabbing at her eyes with one hand while the other tightly clasped Orana’s. 

Hawke smiled at the young elf woman, who’d spent the last several days at the castle helping “the boys” with final alterations to their clothes.  


“You’re gonna have me crying like my mum,” August said, looking suddenly much older in his navy blue doublet. He smiled through the tears that were already trickling down his face. “Mazin, I knew from the moment that I met you that you were a stronger, better man than you thought yourself to be. But in my time knowing you, you’ve shown me that I’m also stronger than I ever imagined. There’s no one in all of Thedas who can make me laugh like you do, and no one who makes me feel safer or more loved. I can’t wait to see what our life together brings us, and I know no matter what it is...we can face it together.” He slid a matching silver band on Mazin’s finger and the officiant produced a lovely silver scarf with red and blue embroidery that Hawke recognized as a piece of Orana’s handiwork. The officiant knotted it around August and Mazin’s hands as they clasped them.   


“In the joining of hands and the fashioning of this knot, so are your lives now bound, one to another!” the officiant boomed out. “You may now seal your vows with a kiss!”  


The two men kissed passionately, their hands tightly clasped together, and Hawke felt her own eyes grow a little bit misty.  


“Softy,” Varric teased as the hall erupted in cheers.   


Hawke elbowed him in the ribs as she joined in the clapping, cheering, and general carrying on. She was quick to get into the archway line, joining hands with Varric for August and Mazin to pass underneath. She smiled at them both as they passed under, genuinely thrilled that they had found each other. The music started up again as they disappeared down the line and Hawke heard the kitchen doors open allowing glorious smells to waft out.   


Jacob’s people were efficient, and quickly there were groaning tables filled with Mrs. Rush’s phenomenal food. Hawke was eyeing them when she caught the familiar aroma of lavender and vanilla.  


“Champion!”  


She found herself engulfed in one of Mrs. Rush’s hugs, but she didn’t mind. She hugged the older woman back with feeling. “Mrs. Rush, how many times have I asked you to call me Saoirse?” she teased her.  


Mrs. Rush dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief embroidered with cornflowers. “As its my son’s wedding day, today I will, my dear Saoirse,” she said. “But only if you call me Elsie.”  


Hawke grinned at her and inclined her head. “It’s a deal, Elsie!”  


Elsie colored, returning Hawke's smile. “Imagine, me calling the Champion of Kirkwall ‘Saoirse’ like we’re old friends!”  


“I’d be honored to call you a friend, Elsie,” Hawke said.   


“Oh my dear girl,” Elsie said, sweeping her into another hug. She didn’t let go this time. “Thank you for making it possible for us to have this day,” Elsie said quietly. “We will never forget.” She pulled back with her hands on Hawke’s shoulders. “I hope that you enjoy the rest of the party,” she said with a wavering smile. “I set aside some of my pies for you to take back with you,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper. She glanced over Hawke’s shoulder and her whole face lit up. “And there he is, my baby boy! Married, at last!”  


August joined them, accompanied by Mazin. He smiled boyishly at his mother. “You make me sound like an old man, mum!” he teased. He turned to Hawke, his expression growing serious. “My lady-”  


“Your mum is calling me Saoirse today,” Hawke interrupted, grinning at him. “I’m going to have to insist on you doing the same.”  


He blushed bright red, hesitating.  


“Saoirse,” Mazin said, smoothly stepping in and taking her hand, bowing over it. “Thank you for saving my brave husband so that I might marry him today. Though we met under dire circumstances, we are grateful to know you and honored to consider you our friend.”  


August swallowed hard and nodded. “What he said,” he said, his hand straying to his abdomen. “I owe you my life, my L--Saoirse. We won’t forget it.”  


Hawke swiped at the tears that had begun to trickle down her face. “I was glad to do it,” she said, taking one of each of the young men’s hands. “I am so happy for you both. I hope that the happiness today marks the rest of your marriage as well.”  


“Can I hug you?” August blurted out.  


“Of course!” Hawke replied.  


The words had scarcely left her mouth before the young man enveloped her in a hug every bit as bone-crushing as his mother’s. It all but took Hawke’s breath away, but she found herself returning it with as much strength as she could muster. Today was a good day.   


“I should also like to hug Saoirse,” Mazin said drily and August let out a little chuff of laughter and stepped back.   


Mazin quickly caught her in an embrace, though his was slightly more gentle.   


There were tears in his eyes when he stepped back and August lovingly wiped them away.   


“We should…”  


“Go!” Hawke said, accepting a drink from Varric who had returned from the extremely well-stocked bar. “You have many other guests who need your attention. Thank you sincerely for inviting me and congratulations again.”  


The young men grinned at her and after a final hug departed to greet the rest of their guests. Mrs. Rush gave Hawke one more hug and then hurried off as well, leaving Hawke to sip her wine with Varric.   


“So how do you know the grooms?” said a voice with a thick Free Marches accent.   


Hawke turned to find herself looking at a woman roughly her own age, with raven black hair that fell down around her shoulders in a gleaming curtain. She had dark eyes, a pert little nose, and generous lips stained the color of blackberry juice. They were roughly the same height, but the other woman was more slender and had a stillness about her that made Hawke feel suddenly brash and clumsy.   


“Funny story,” Varric said mildly, giving Hawke an odd look. “She saved August’s life a few months back when he was gored protecting the apprentice stablemaster from a wild boar.”  


Hawke blushed. “It was nothing,” she said immediately. “Just a little healing.” She glanced after the two young men, smiling. “It was well worth it to see today happen.”  


“Iona told me about the fight with the boar!” the woman said. “She said the Champion of Kirkwall arrived just in time to...oh Maker!” Her eyes got very wide. “You-you’re Saoirse Hawke!”  


Hawke gave a rueful smile. “Guilty, I’m afraid.” She stuck out her hand. “It’s good to meet you…?”  


“Orla!” the other woman said, clasping Hawke’s hand and giving it a firm shake. Orla’s hands were not the hands of a noble woman. They were strong and calloused and tanned by the sun. “Orla Mencken.”  


“Mencken,” Hawke said. “Mencken...like the viscount’s Master of Horse?”  


“The very same,” Orla said, her cheeks coloring. “Though the title is meaningless without a viscount. And it wasn’t mine anyway, it was my late husband’s.” She gave a sad little smile. “But I still manage the stables, and I like to think that my Donnal would be proud of how I’ve done.” She seemed to shake herself out of her reverie. “Did you hear that Warmeadow had her foal?” she asked.  


Hawke shook her head. The last time she’d been at the castle the mare had been heavily pregnant. She’d commented on the unusual name to Jacob, who had explained that he let the servants’ children name the horses born on the castle grounds.  


“I haven’t been here in several months,” she said. “How is she?”  


“Would you like to see?” Orla asked excitedly. “She’s a dear little thing, and you’d never have guessed that it was Warmeadow’s first foal. She’s a wonderful mother!”  


“I’d love to!” Hawke said, grateful for the chance to get out of the crush of people and sidelong glances.  


“You kids go ahead,” Varric said, making a face. “I’ll never understand you human’s love of horses,” he grumbled good naturedly. “I’ll stay here with the food and the whisky.”  


Hawke grinned and kissed him on the cheek. “Find you later,” she promised before allowing Orla to lead her away.  


“How do you know Jacob’s horses?” she asked as they made their way through the throngs of August and Mazin’s well-wishers.  


“Iona asked me for help when Warmeadow’s time was getting close,” Orla exclaimed as they stepped out into the rain. It had slowed to a mist, at least, but it still was chilly. They hurried across the grounds to the stable as Orla elaborated. “Since I took over managing the horses, our stables haven’t lost any mares during foaling.” She threw the heavy bolt and opened the door, releasing the warm, earthy smell of horses.   


The two women stepped inside where they took a minute to allow their eyes to adjust to the relative darkness of the peaceful stables. Orla let out a long breath.  


“Not a people person?” Hawke asked.  


“Not so many people,” Orla replied, pulling a face that Hawke could see even in the darkness. “Not all at once.”  


Hawke nodded and was about to reply when she heard an inquiring ‘meow’ and looked down to see an orange tabby cat waddling over with its tail high and quivering.  


“Mittens!” Hawke exclaimed, sinking into a crouch and holding her hand out. The cat bumped her head against Hawke’s hand, purring. “Are you pregnant again?” she asked, scratching behind the cat’s ears.   


Orla chuckled. “Aye,” she said. “Not that I’m complaining. Her last litter have been doing a fine job keeping the grounds free of vermin.” She clucked to the cat who hurried over to her, winding around her ankles. “And who am I to deny you your fun?” She nodded towards the back of the stable where the massive box stalls lay and Hawke followed, Mittens following behind at a stately pace. Hawke heard a soft greeting wicker and Warmeadow’s powerful gray head popped over the stall door.   


“Hullo, big girl,” Orla said softly, reaching out and stroking the mare’s cheek. The mare snorted and nudged Orla with her nose, making her chuckle. “I don’t have anything this second,” she said apologetically. “I’ll bring you two some treats later.” She slid the bolt and opened the stall door, motioning for Hawke to follow.  


“Are you sure?” Hawke asked with some trepidation. Warmeadow was a massive horse and she knew mares were picky about who they allowed near their foals.  


Orla nodded. “It’ll be fine,” she promised.  


“I’ve heard that before,” Hawke said wryly. Curiosity got the better of her, however, and she followed Orla into the stall. She couldn’t help the little gasp of pleasure as they stepped into the space illuminated by a thick, glass lamp. Inside there was a filly the color of pewter with the telltale spots of a dapple gray. She turned to look, hay dangling from her lips, and she made a quiet sound of greeting and spun around to approach them. She butted Orla excitedly, her eyes bright as she sniffed the other woman’s hair and then nudged her expectantly.   


“You great greedy monster,” Orla giggled, scratching the filly behind her ears. “You’re as bad as your mum. I’d like you to meet someone.” She motioned for Hawke to come forward and Hawke did, though she kept one eye on Warmeadow. Fortunately the mare obviously seemed to trust Orla, and it appeared she had lost interest now that Orla proved she hadn’t brought any treats. Hawke held out her hand and the filly sniffed her, her lips picking at Hawke’s sleeve. She raised her head and looked at Hawke with huge, limpid eyes, before snorting and nudging Hawke for a pet and streaking her dress with drool.  


Hawke giggled, charmed, and scratched along the filly’s crest. “What’s her name?” she asked.   


“Princess Moonsong Swordfur,” Orla said wryly. “It was the smith’s daughter’s turn to do the naming.” She chuckled. “We just call her Moonsong...when we aren’t calling her glutton!”  


“Moonsong,” Hawke said, stroking her fingertips through the filly’s soft mane. “You are a lovely little thing.”  


“Don’t encourage her,” Orla said. “She knows that she’s cute and she shamelessly abuses it. She’s got old Dylan wrapped around her hoof!”  


Hawke grinned. “Atta girl,” she said, making Orla chuckle.   


“He was a little disappointed it wasn't’ a colt,” Orla said, giving Moonsong and Warmeadow each a loving pat before indicating they should step out of the stall. “But she won him over in two shakes.”  


“I can see how,” Hawke said. “She’s really beautiful.”  


“She’s mischievous,” Orla said. “She’s already worked out how to open the stall if we don’t keep it locked. She’s fixing to be a handful. Dylan was thinking of training her for the traces originally, but I think I’ve convinced him to let her be trained as a destrier.”  


“Makes sense if she’s as clever as you say,” Hawke replied, watching as the other woman checked the horses food and water before locking up.   


“I think so,” Orla replied. “Let me peek in on everyone, then we can go back.”   


Hawke contented herself petting Mittens while Orla went around to each stall, greeting every horse by name as she did. She’d obviously spent a lot of time at the castle for all of the horses to be so comfortable with her. Hawke gave Mittens a goodbye pat as Orla approached her, and together they stepped out into the cool evening air. Orla produced a handkerchief from her pocket and wetted it at the pump outside the stable. “Sorry about your dress,” she said.  


Hawke accepted it and dabbed at the drool spot Moonsong had left with a shrug. “No harm done,” she said. “It was worth it to meet her.”  


Orla smiled warmly at her and accepted her stained handkerchief back, draping it over the pump. “I suppose we should return to where the people are,” she said.   


“People might talk otherwise,” Hawke replied as they struck out across the courtyard. They stepped into the Great Hall and Orla waved at Iona, who was motioning her over.   


“Would you excuse me, Saoirse?” Orla said, smiling at her.   


“Of course,” Hawke replied. She caught Jacob’s eye as he glanced over towards the door and felt the butterflies rise in her stomach as he excused himself from the people he was talking to and started in her direction. “It was lovely meeting you, Orla.”  


Orla smiled at her. “I can honestly say likewise, Saoirse, which makes me happier than you know.” With that she hurried away, leaving Hawke a little nonplussed. She didn’t have much time to ponder, however, as Jacob strode up to her.   


“There you are,” he said. “I don’t suppose you have a moment?”  


“For you, always,” Hawke said, smiling up at him.   


He grinned at her and together they made their way to the staircase that led up to the library. They climbed in silence, and once they were in the beautiful room, Jacob poured whisky for them both. 

They settled in the chairs by the window and Jacob touched his glass to hers. “It is good to see you, Saoirse,” he said after they had each taken a sip of the peaty Yalsi single-malt. It appeared Sebastian had come through after all.  


“You as well,” she replied, and meant it. “I have missed you, and the fucking castle.”  


“Likewise,” he said. He took a deep breath, and his dark eyes met hers. “How is Fenris?” he asked. “He seemed recovered when he was here.”  


Hawke felt her cheeks color slightly. “He’s well,” she said. “We’re both very grateful for what you did, Jacob.”  


He waved his hand, shaking his head. “I was glad to do it,” he replied. He smiled ruefully. “Perhaps grudgingly at the time, but it was the right thing to do. And it was worth it to see how happy it has made you. You two are good together.”  


Her eyes widened as she looked at him.  


He shrugged his powerful shoulders. “There was a...haunted look about you before, something I didn’t realize until seeing you now. That look is gone. You look like a woman who is content, and that brings me great joy.”  


Hawke reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. “You are a good man, Jacob,” she said, looking into his dark eyes. “I am fortunate to count you among my friends.”  


He squeezed her hand back and grinned at her, the expression disarmingly boyish. “Yes well, it is easy to be generous when one is also happy.” He swallowed hard. “That is what I wanted to talk to you about. I wanted you to hear the news from me before it became general knowledge.”  


Hawke cocked her head. “What news is that?” she asked.  


Jacob took a deep breath. “I am...seeing someone.”  


“That’s wonderful news, Jacob!” she said, rising and pulling him up into a hug.   


He chuckled, the familiar sound against her cheek warming her all the way through as he clasped her to him. They stood that way for a few moments before releasing each other and sitting back down.   


“Tell me all about her!” Hawke said.  


“I rather hoped you would tell me what you thought,” he said, giving her a sly look. “Given as she spirited you off at the first opportunity.”  


“Orla!” Hawke gasped.  


Jacob nodded. “Iona introduced us. The two of them met in the Viscount’s stables. The whole staff likes her,” he rushed to add. “And I-” he blushed.  


“You’re falling for her,” Hawke said, grinning.   


His answering smile was soft and sweet. “I am,” he said quietly. “And I am greatly honored to say it appears she feels the same about me.”  


“I am so very happy for you,” Hawke said. “Clearly you owe Iona a raise!”  


Jacob laughed and raised a glass and together they took another sip of the excellent whisky. “I suspect that Orla was trying to get your measure,” he said after a period of comfortable silence. “She has heard a great deal about you, as you can imagine. But she likes to form her own opinions.”  


“Good for her,” Hawke said. “Let her come to dislike me naturally, like most people do.”  


Jacob snorted, shaking his head. “Sincerely, Saoirse, what did you think?”  


“Mittens likes her,” Hawke said, grinning. “She’s a good judge of character.” She forced herself to be serious. “She seems lovely, Jacob.”  


“And here I was, planning to say the same about you,” Orla’s voice said from the doorway.  


Jacob jumped to his feet and Hawke rose as well, turning to grin at the other woman.   


“I apologize for eavesdropping,” Orla said, entering the library and taking Jacob’s hand. “The toasts are about to start,” she explained.   


Hawke shrugged. “I don’t mind you hearing,” she said. “I hope that you two are very happy together.”  


From the way the two of them looked at each other, she had little doubt that they would be. Together they trooped downstairs for the toasts, and Hawke took the opportunity to watch the couple together. She recognized the way they constantly seemed to glance at each other, the shared smiles, the brief touches, knowing that she and Fenris were much the same way. Jacob listened attentively when Orla talked, clearly valuing her opinions on more than just horses. Orla, for her part, seemed to respect Jacob greatly without being overawed by his title or wealth. By the time a cheering crowd sent Mazin and August off to bed, Hawke was sure that Jacob and Orla were well-suited.   


The couple walked her and Varric up to the suite they would share, where she embraced each of them. Orla seemed surprised, but hugged her back. “We should go riding together,” Orla said when they pulled back. “Just us girls.”  


Hawke grinned at her. “I’d like that,” she said warmly.   


Jacob was looking back and forth between them, his handsome face lit up with a wide smile. They bid each other goodnight before Hawke and Varric retired into the suite. Varric offered to have a nightcap, but Hawke just wanted to crawl into bed. She realized as she doffed her stained dress that not only was she feeling exhausted the way she usually did after being around dozens of people, but the emotional release of realizing she didn’t have to carry quite so much guilt had sapped her energy.   


She collapsed into bed, but as tired as she was, she found herself struggling to fall asleep. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Fenris that she was accustomed to sleeping with him. Not having his strong arms around her left her restless. She smiled wryly to herself. Of course, the two of them often enjoyed each other before falling asleep, and she was missing that, as well as the comfort of his embrace.  


_It is only one night_ , she admonished herself. Still, she found herself sliding her hand down her body and into her smalls, thinking back to what Fenris had said earlier.   


_It shall take a great deal of self-control to be gentle with you._   


Maker, what would Fenris being less than gentle look like? He was strong and she knew how deadly focused he could be when he wanted to. She knew from sparring that even after years of practice, he could still catch and pin her. Would he do that? Would he pin her down and take his pleasure? Would he relish telling her what to do? Would he put his hand at her throat again as he thrust into her and filled her, claiming her as his own? She knew he would never do anything to cause lasting harm to her...but a few bruises? “Fuck, Fenris!” she hissed out loud, struggling to stay quiet as she stroked her clit, thinking of all the ways that he could be less than gentle. It didn’t take her long to drive herself over the edge, and she came with a gasp, her back arching off the bed as she waves of pleasure crashed over her. She collapsed back panting with a wry smile on her face. Even when he wasn’t there, he made her wild. She yawned as sleep finally began to take hold of her, burrowing down into the soft blankets. _Goodnight, love,_ she thought. _See you tomorrow._

####

It was so late in the night it was at the boundary of late night and extremely early and Fenris lay in his room in his mansion, staring at Hawke’s fire blazing merrily against the chill and damp brought on by the lashing rain.  


_How long has it been since I last slept here?_ He found himself wondering. Weeks, at least. Though it was oddly comforting to have the mansion, he almost never spent any time there anymore. It was still where he and Hawke sparred, and Donnic and Anders came over for Diamondback every week, but otherwise he was at the Hawke estate, the place he had come to view as home.   


Hawke had offered for him to stay there while she was at August and Mazin’s wedding, but it had felt strange to stay without her. So, he had gone to drinks with Isabela at the Hanged Man, and cards with Donnic while Aveline was on patrol, and that had taken up the better part of his afternoon and evening. He’d come home once Aveline had returned from patrol and the two of them had caught up a little and whiled away a few more hours reading. But though he was tired, he was having trouble falling asleep.  


He knew what the issue was. He was used to the feeling of Hawke’s warm little body pressed against him and the comforting sound of her even breathing and occasional soft snore. Never in a hundred lifetimes would it have occurred to him that one day he would be so accustomed to his partner’s presence that sleeping without her would be difficult.   


Hell, never would it have occurred to him that he would have been a free man with a partner, and not bound as a slave to a person he hated.   


He clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head. It was no use thinking about that life. It was done. He was free and in love with a beautiful woman who had agreed to marry him one day. He wanted to follow human tradition and get her a ring, and today would have been a perfect opportunity, but for the fact that he wanted Varric to go with him. He knew that their other friends would help, but no one knew Hawke like Varric did. The only other person who could have helped was Aveline, but Fenris knew that she’d never be able to keep it a secret. All it would take would be marriage coming up, then Aveline would blush, Hawke would press, and the whole thing would come out. Though Hawke knew he wanted to marry her, he wanted the ring to be a surprise, at least. So that would have to wait.   


He closed his eyes, interlacing his fingers across his stomach, and allowed himself to indulge in some daydreaming. What kind of wedding would Hawke want? Knowing her, she’d want something simple and intimate, with lively music and good food. He could imagine Hawke all in white, making jokes about spilling something on her dress and then giving him a heated look that suggested she wouldn’t mind if he were to spill on her dress.  


The thought sent a frission of need through him and he felt his cock grow hard at the thought of undressing her on their wedding night. The thought of the wolf necklace against her bare breasts as both it and her wedding band caught the firelight. Forever bound together. His partner. His Hawke. His wife.   


Fenris shivered and unlaced his fingers, slowly letting one hand slide down and brush over his hard cock. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the sensation of his own touch, rather than the evil thoughts that always waited when he tried to touch himself.   


_I am my own man,_ he told himself. _And if I belong to anyone, it is her. She would want me to relax and enjoy myself._ Touching himself was still hard without her around, though he had at least gotten to where he could do it if she was there. But he needed her, and she was hours away, and he was certain that if he didn’t do something he’d never get any sleep at all.  


He took a deep breath and pictured her as she’d been that afternoon, on her knees before him. Only now, in his minds eye, she was naked. Her wedding band glinting as she reached up to wrap one hand around his cock, her lovely full lips quirked into a smile as she kissed the tip and let it slide into her mouth.  


“Hawke!” Fenris grunted out loud, easing his hand into his trousers and taking hold of his cock through his smalls. Maker, he was hard as a rock and there was a distinct wet spot on the front of his smalls.   


_I love seeing you lose control....You’re always so gentle with me. But I really don’t mind things getting a little rough..._  


His cock twitched at the memory of her words. He wasn’t sure that he could allow himself to completely lose control. Not with her. Not when the thought of causing her any more pain or sorrow than he already had made him sick to his stomach. But surely he could give her what she wanted without putting her at risk. When they sparred he was not especially gentle with her, beyond pulling his blows so that he would not actually cause lasting harm. Perhaps he could channel the same energy into being a little bit more...creative in their lovemaking.   


An image came to him then, from years before during their first night together. She’d crossed her arms at the wrists when he’d confessed his discomfort with her hands in his hair while he licked her. She’d looked so delicious stretched out that way.  


He slid his hand inside his smalls, moaning as he wrapped it around his cock. He was dripping picturing her stretched out like that for him, but actually bound this time. Unable to stop him when he kept licking her after she came, writhing beneath his hands and mouth, the sweet sounds of her moans breaking the quiet peace of their bedroom. Pushing her over and over until she was a quaking mess beneath him, begging him to take her. She would be so wet when he sheathed himself in her after that, her wet cunt so sensitive and tight, gripping him so perfectly like she had been made just for him.  


The thought was so good, so enrapturing that it took him a few moments to realize that the pleasure he was feeling wasn’t a figment of his imagination. He had begun to stroke slowly and steadily as he pictured taking his pleasure in that way. The dark thoughts immediately tried to rush in, but he shoved them back, focusing instead on how she looked beneath him when they made love. Her head thrown back with pleasure, her breasts moving as he thrust in and out, her strong legs wrapped around his waist.   


_I’m yours._ She loved saying that when he was close, knowing what it did to him. More often than not, she reached up and brushed her fingers over the necklace as she held his gaze. Though he had truly intended the piece of jewelry to be a simple token of his affection, he couldn’t deny the intense feelings of desire and need that suffused him when she’d called it him “staking a claim”.   


“Hawke,” he panted, stroking faster. Fuck, he was actually getting close thinking of taking her “less than gently”. He wanted it, he realized. He had thought before about his realization that she was always sweet during their lovemaking, always letting him take the lead. He knew that she was fiercely protective of him and didn’t want to hurt him. He also knew that after he’d left her their first night together she was still...cautious about pushing too far out of fear that it would break them. But he wanted her to push. He wanted to test the boundaries of what his freedom allowed him, allowed _them_ to be together.   


He wanted to drape her legs over his elbows and thrust into her as hard as he could, hearing her cry out his name as she bared her teeth in a feral smile and rocked her hips back into him. He wanted her to growl at him, to struggle against her bindings and sink her teeth into his shoulder when he leaned down to suck one of her nipples. The images began to blur together as he suddenly found himself pumping his hand up and down his cock, his whole body growing tense and still before his pleasure overcame him, making him buck and yell out her name into the silence of his mansion. He stroked himself through the last aftershocks, then collapsed, panting, against his pillows. He was a mess, his shirt and hand covered in his spend, but he felt the smile spreading across his face as his heart pounded beneath his breast.   


He had done it.   


Part of him couldn’t wait to tell her, but part of him felt trepidation at the thought of admitting that it was the idea of taking her in that way that had finally allowed him to. But she had said she wanted him to be feral, to lose control, to be less than gentle. Surely she wouldn’t mind the idea that he’d finally made himself cum thinking of tying her up and taking her?   


Fenris yawned and stripped out of his shirt, tossing it to the floor. He would wash it tomorrow. His heart had begun to slow and with it exhaustion had begun to creep in. Hawke would be home tomorrow. He smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to see her and tell her that he had reclaimed another portion of himself.   


Every day he had spent knowing her, he had grown a little more free.  


_Goodnight, Kadan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you all enjoyed! I am a sucker for writing weddings because like Hawke I'm a big 'ole softy. Also, I couldn't just leave Jacob hanging and really wanted him to get another chance at happiness. I think he's a pragmatic enough person that he wouldn't moon over Hawke forever, especially if someone like Orla came along. I also want to do a little exploring of kink for Hawke and Fenris, which we'll go into more detail on next chapter. I don't think it's OOC that Fenris would enjoy the thought of Hawke being tied up, as long as she wasn't actually afraid or in pain. I think he, of all people, would feel a deep appreciation for the trust and vulnerability that she was showing in allowing him. Of course, if you feel differently I'd love to hear it. Mostly, I'm just glad that Fenris got to reclaim that bit of his personhood. See you all next chapter!


	33. Bound, but Free *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Hawke explore more of what it means to be free together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NSFW SMUT WITH FEELINGS INCOMING**
> 
> Seriously, y'all, this chapter is straight-up smut. :)
> 
> Also, as of 8/15/20 I have edited it pretty significantly as I was not happy with the original iteration. I feel like everyone is more in character in this one.

Hawke leaned back in the tub with a happy sigh. Though she had thoroughly enjoyed the wedding and the wedding breakfast, she was glad to be back at her estate. The denizens of the Fucking Castle, as well as August and Mazin’s guests had been lovely. But there had been rather a lot of them. Still, it had been pleasant to sit and chat with Jacob and Orla, and when they had waved her and Varric off, Hawke had settled back against the carriage cushions secure in the fact that her dear friend was happy.  


She remained in the tub until she had begun to get pruny, then she rose and padded up to her room. She’d let Orana have the rest of the week off to recover from all her hard work and she had been gratified to learn that Jacob had done the same for Neriel. The two women would have several days together free of any responsibilities and that made her happy.  


Speaking of things that made her happy, now that her present responsibilities were discharged, she could go and see Fenris.  


Once she was dry she stood in front of her wardrobe for a time, trying to decide what to wear. She didn’t really feel like wearing another dress, though Fenris’ reaction was generally worth it. She settled instead on simple black trousers and a loose, long-sleeved crimson top with laces that came down daringly low. She threw on her most comfortable boots and hurried downstairs, bidding Bodahn and Sandal good morning before stepping outside. The crisp air was scented with wood smoke and Hawke inhaled deeply before striking out towards Fenris’ mansion. She knocked to announce her presence, then slipped inside and headed for the stairs. “Fenris?”  


No answer.  


Frowning, Hawke jogged up the stairs two at a time and then paused outside his door. She knocked and then reached for the handle, only to suddenly find herself pinned against the heavy door with her wrists above her head.  


“Good morning, Kadan,” murmured Fenris, his breath ghosting across her ear and throat.  


Hawke gasped, unconsciously tilting her head to the side, baring her throat to the gentle caress of his lips. “Fenris!”  


“I missed you,” he said, not releasing her, but instead leaving a blazing trail of tender kisses from her shoulder up to her ear. “How was the wedding?”  


“I-I missed you too,” Hawke whispered, her breath hitching in her throat as his free hand slid under the bottom hem of her shirt and splayed across her belly. “And it-it was lovely. I-I cried.”  


“Mmmm, you are _sweet_ ,” Fenris said, pressing his body against her back. He was hard against her and Hawke heard herself let out a wanton moan, pressing her ass back against him.  


Hawke whimpered as his hand slid down the front of her trousers and into her smalls. “Maker, Fenris, what has gotten into you?” She felt him hesitate and cursed herself. “Not that I mind!” she hurried to add. “This just isn’t like you.”  


“I have been thinking about what you said yesterday,” he said and she felt him relax. His hand continued its downward journey as one of his legs slid between hers and nudged them apart.  


“What-what part?” Hawke asked, her words trailing off in a little moan as his calloused fingers brushed along her dripping seam. Fuck, she was already dripping! How did he do this to her?  


“When you told me that I need not always be gentle with you,” he rumbled. “I have been contemplating what that might look like.” His finger dipped between her lips and she heard him groan at how wet she was before his finger found her clit and all thought abruptly went out of her head. She lost herself in the feeling of his touch, feeling her knees shake as she struggled to stay standing. He stroked her quickly, his mouth never leaving her neck as his strong hand kept her arms pinned above her head.  


“This...this is a good start,” Hawke panted.  


“I am pleased you think so,” Fenris said, his lips against her ear, his breath hot and wet. “Because I should like to spend some time today...figuring it out with you. Once I have made you cum, that is.”  


Hawke felt a shudder go through her entire body. “Fenris-”  


“I was able to cum last night,” Fenris whispered, pressing his body against her more firmly. Hawke felt the smooth wood against her cheek as she was pushed against it and was grateful for the help in keeping her feet. “Thinking of taking you...less than gently.”  


“How did you take me?” Hawke asked, clenching her eyes shut as she felt herself getting close. “Like this? Against the wall?”  


“No,” Fenris said and she heard a slight hesitation before he spoke in a rush. “You were bound.”  


“Fuck, oh fuck!” Hawke whimpered. “Yes please!”  


Apparently emboldened by her enthusiasm, Fenris resumed speaking, though this time she could hear him smiling. “I licked you until you were begging me to stop, Hawke, and then I took you.”  


“Fenris!” Her whole body was so tight that it hurt, but it felt incredible at the same time. She knew him well enough to know that he was more than happy to use the advantage his voice gave him over her. “Tell me, tell me how you took me please I’m going to cum-”  


“I bent you in half,” he grunted into her ear, his hand around her wrists tightening to just on the edge of painful. “Your legs over my arms so that I could watch your beautiful breasts bounce with every thrust, so that I could see my wolf between them and know that we are bound to each other-”  


Hawke came with a scream that, had they been in her home, would have had her worried that she’d just traumatized her servants. As it was, she let herself be as loud as she wanted, her whole body bucking and shuddering under her lover’s skilled touch. When she came back to herself Fenris was kissing the back of her neck, though he hadn’t released her arms.  


“Are you all right?” he asked and she swore he sounded smug.  


“I should go away more often,” Hawke retorted, grinning.  


She loved the soft rumble of Fenris’ chuckle behind her. “Are you ready to go again?”  


Hawke shuddered so hard that her knees almost buckled and Fenris released her arms and scooped her up into his. He carried her into his room and lay her down before stretching out next to her. 

“Was that...all right?” he asked her, his beautiful eyes searching hers. “Is something like that what you...had in mind?”  


Hawke hugged him around the waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “That was fucking incredible,” she said. She felt the warmth of a blush on her cheeks.  


He leaned his forehead against hers. “I enjoyed having you like that just now,” he said softly and Hawke shivered at the heat in his voice. “And while I am not averse to being a little rough, as I am when we spar, I am not comfortable actually hurting you.” He opened his eyes. “I cannot cause you extreme pain, Hawke. Or fear. If those are things that you need I-I cannot-”  


She hugged him tightly, pulling him down for a deep kiss. “I don’t need anything more than you,” she said against his lips. “You could tell me that you only ever wanted to do it in the good old fashioned chantry-approved missionary position and I wouldn’t care as long as it was you.” She brushed his hair off his forehead. “You are what I want, Fenris. Whatever you are comfortable giving is what I want.”

####

Fenris looked down at Saoirse, warmth filling his spirit at her words. He rolled her onto her back suddenly, smiling down at her when she giggled. “I think you will find I am comfortable giving you many things,” he teased, cupping her cheek and dragging his thumb over her lips.  


She flicked her tongue out against his thumb with a sassy smile and he grinned at her, leaning down to kiss her gently. The kiss was slow and languid and Fenris felt himself sigh with pleasure as she stroked her fingertips through his hair. To think that a few years ago he would have found the thought of anyone, let alone a mage, touching him in that way repellant.  


“What about you?” she asked against his lips as her warm fingers caressed the back of his neck.  


“Me?” he asked.  


“Anything I can give you?” she asked him, pulling back and looking into his eyes. “Any...fantasies?” Her expression was mischievous, which helped keep him from feeling too embarrassed by his response.  


“You mean, beyond being a free man with friends, a home, and the love of a beautiful woman?” he asked wryly.  


She flushed, an expression of chagrin flickering across her face. “Fenris I-”  


“Peace, Hawke,” he said gently, kissing the tip of her nose. “I am only teasing.”  


“There’s truth to it though,” she said, still looking worried.  


He shrugged. “Yes,” he said. “I cannot pretend that I ever allowed myself to fantasize about my life being as it is now,” he said, hoping that she could feel every ounce of his gratitude and adoration for her. “Much less the kind of fantasies I think you speak of, but I promise you...should any occur to me, I shall share them. In the meantime, I am happy to explore yours.” He kissed her softly, hoping that his response was sufficient.  


“That certainly sounds promising,” she said.  


Fenris leaned in and kissed her neck, letting his tongue flick out to caress the scar that crossed it. “Oh?” he murmured, sliding one hand under her shirt to caress her side. “Promising, eh?”  


“Mmmm,” she replied. “Very. I mean, how you greeted me was pretty fantastic,” Hawke said. “Very creative.”  


Fenris chuckled. “I am not sure what came over me,” he said. “I had only just woken up and was thinking of yesterday when I heard you come in.” He shrugged, smiling shyly at her. “I thought you might enjoy.”  


“I did,” she said and he smiled when her cheeks reddened. “I like you pinning me against the door,” she said. “It reminds me of the second time we kissed.”  


He stared at her, feeling like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. “You remember everything,” he said softly, bringing his hand up to her cheek.  


“You made an impression,” she said, leaning into his touch. “For what it’s worth, what I told you when you had me against the door still applies.”  


Fenris felt his heart begin to beat faster. “I should presume as hard as I want?” Beneath his body he felt her shiver.  


“Looks like I’m not the only one who remembers everything,” she said with a soft smile. “And fuck yes you should!”  


Fenris kissed her like he had that day against his door, throwing the entirety of his love and need for her into the simple gesture. She moaned beneath him, parting her lips and he pressed gently, caressing her tongue with his own. He didn’t break the kiss as he reached beneath his body to unlace her shirt, gently pulling it wide and sliding his hand inside to cup her breast. She arched beneath him as his thumb found her nipple and stroked back and forth over it.  


“Fenris!” she gasped against his lips.  


“Hawke,” he whispered, pressing a sloppy kiss to her collarbone. She felt so good under his body and beneath his hands. He loved the soft sounds she made and the way her body rocked and arched into his touch. She shuddered beneath him and he looked up and caught a glimpse of the dangerous creature he saw on the battlefield as she met his eyes.  


“I want you,” she breathed against his lips.  


He lurched up and kissed her again, feeling his control slipping as she wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly. “Shall I be sweet?” he replied, rising so that he was straddling her on his knees and pushing her shirt up. He tossed it to the floor and ran his fingertips down her body.  


“You’re always sweet,” she said, smiling up at him.  


He knew that she was being sincere, but he saw the hint of a challenge in her eyes and heard the edge in her voice.  


“You think so?” he murmured. He flattened his palms on her belly and skimmed them up her ribs before cupping her breasts and giving them a gentle, but firm squeeze. She moaned, rocking into his touch and letting out a frustrated sound when he released them. He reached under her, unable to take his eyes off of her as she arched her back to give him access. With much-practiced skill, he untied the breastband and pulled it off of her, loving the way her breasts looked as they slipped free of the confining garment. Her dark nipples were hard and he couldn’t resist the urge to lean down and brush hips lips over them softly. He lingered there for a few moments, leaving a trail of tender kisses back and forth between her breasts. Occasionally his lips would brush over the wolf pendant and he felt himself smiling when they did. Finally he caught one of her nipples gently between his teeth, giving it a gentle tug and the quiet groan she let out went straight to his groin. He sat up and looked down at her as he smoothed his hands up and down her sides. She let out frustrated little groans every time he got close to her breasts, but she was smiling.  


“So…” Hawke said in a somewhat breathless voice. Her golden eyes opened and fixed on him, one of her dark eyebrows raising. “You were able to cum last night?”  


Fenris blushed and reached down to gently squeeze both of her breasts. “You are trying to distract me,” he said mock sternly as he circled her nipples with his thumbs.  


Her lips quirked into a challenging smile. “Maybe I just want to hear about it,” she retorted.  


“Mmm,” Fenris replied, leaning down so that he could nibble on her ear. “I forget you have such a weakness for hearing filth from me.”  


Hawke snorted. “You’ve never forgotten anything a day in your life.”  


Fenris laughed softly and kissed her lips. “Very well, Hawke,” he said, pitching his voice quiet and low the way that always excited her. “Yes, I was able.”  


Her answering smile was sweet, though he could see worry in her eyes as well. “And you were...ok?” she asked, taking one of his hands and bringing it to her lips.  


“For the most part,” he said, squeezing her hand. “It was late, and I was missing having you against me as I fell asleep.”  


“I missed it too,” she said. Her smile turned impish again. “I had to do the same thing to fall asleep.”  


Fenris felt gooseflesh rising on his skin. It was no secret between them that he loved to watch her. “Oh?” he murmured into her ear.  


She let out a soft gasp as his breath ghosted over her skin, but shook her head. “We were talking about you,” she said. She kissed his cheek. “What were you thinking about?” she asked.  


He stroked his hand down her side, purposely brushing over her breast as he did. She arched into his touch, but her eyes didn’t leave his. “I thought of the first time I licked you,” he said quietly, his cheeks growing warm. “Do you remember what happened?”  


“I touched your hair,” she said immediately and he heard the consternation in her voice. “And you asked me not to.” She looked up at him. “You put my hands in your hair yesterday,” she said quietly. “It meant the world to me.”  


He smiled back down at her. “I am not the same man I was,” he said, looking into her eyes. “There still may be times that it is...too much. But I trust you.”  


“I’ll let you be the one to put them there,” Saoirse promised, kissing the underside of his jaw.  


He hugged her and heard himself let out a little grunt of need as her tongue flicked against his neck. “Do you…” he exhaled slowly, trying to focus. “Do you remember what you did when I asked you to stop?”  


She was quiet for a moment and he glanced down in time to see the memory occur to her. Her lips curled into a sultry smile made his cock twitch. She wriggled under him, freeing her arm, and put both arms over her head, her wrists crossed. “Something like this?” she asked, arching her back.  


“Maker, Hawke,” he whispered, staring as the dappled late afternoon sunlight came through the window and illuminated her dark skin. “It is no wonder thinking of you like this is what made me able to finally take myself in hand without you. You are the most beautiful-” he leaned down and brushed his lips over the pebbled skin of her nipple “woman that I have ever known.”  


“Hush,” she said, shaking her head.  


“Never,” he replied before dragging his tongue over her nipple. He loved how she arched her back, pressing her nipple more firmly against his lips.  


“So you thought of having me like this,” Hawke said breathlessly.  


“But bound,” he confessed and was heartened when she let out a soft little moan. “So that I could lick you as many times as I wanted and you would be unable to stop me until I was sated.”  


“Fenris,” she whispered, her fists clenching over her head. “Fuck, that sounds amazing.” She grinned at him. “And you say you don’t have fantasies.”  


He let out a self-deprecating laugh, but grew serious as he looked down at her. “Is that truly something that you’d want?” he asked.  


She snorted. “If you touched me right now, you’d have your answer,” she teased.  


“Is that so?” he replied, sliding one of his hands down her body and between her legs. He gasped at the slickness that his fingers encountered and was unable to keep from trailing his fingertip around her clit for a moment just to hear her soft whimper of need. “Maker, Saoirse.”  


“Told ya so,” she said in a halting, breathy voice. Her eyes met his and wordlessly, she brought her wrists forward and held them out to him. “I’m yours,” she said quietly. “The breastband should work.”  


Fenris caught his breath at the suggestion. “Are you sure?” he asked, feeling the hairs at the back of his neck stand up. He couldn’t deny that the thought of having her that way appealed to him, but asking her to actually do it was another thing all together.  


She nodded. “I promise I’ll stop you if I need to,” she said with a smile. “Though I can’t imagine that being an issue.” She raised her wrists again. “Unless you don’t want to.”  


Fenris accepted her wrists with hands that shook slightly and pressed a kiss to the inside of each wrist. Then, moving slowly so that she could stop him if she wanted, he wound the breastband around her wrists and pushed them over her head. He threaded the ends through the slats on his headboard, though it was more symbolic than anything else. He knew that Hawke could slip out of the loose knot at her wrists.  


“Try not to break the headboard,” he teased, hearing how rough nervousness had made his voice. “It was the only one with no bloodstains.” It was clear Hawke heard him too, because she wrinkled her nose at him. “No promises,” she teased back.  


He leaned down, smiling as he pressed his lips to hers. She made a happy sound into the kiss that turned into a quiet moan of pleasure as his hands once more cupped her breasts. He kissed her cheek and down her neck, pausing for a moment to leave a trail of soft kisses along the scar left by Breaker. “Kadan,” he murmured against it. “My strong, beautiful, fierce Saoirse. I would have said you were my fantasy, but I never could have imagined finding a woman who fit me so perfectly. Never could I have imagined you.”  


“You’re going to make me cry,” Hawke said and when he looked up he saw the tears already standing in her eyes.  


“I cannot have that,” he said, smiling and brushing them away before sucking one of her nipples into his mouth hard.  


She cried out beneath him, arching up and pressing her breast more firmly into his mouth as he cupped the other one and gently pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He took his time sucking her, loving how she shuddered and writhed beneath his mouth and hand. When he let her nipple slip from his mouth and stole a glance at her her head was thrown back, a blissful smile on her face. He blew gently on the slick surface of her nipple, enjoying how her skin pebbled as she whimpered his name. He was quick to pay her other nipple the same attention, once again taking his time as she twisted beneath him.  


“Please!” she moaned. “Fenris!”  


“What is it, Kadan?” he asked, his lips ghosting over the soft skin between her breasts and the necklace that lay between them.  


“I need you to touch me,” she whimpered.  


“Am I not?” he asked, knowing that she’d hear the smile on his face. He kissed down from her breasts, over her belly and the ragged line of the Arishok scar. He nipped just beneath it, startling a giggle from her.  


“You-you aren’t wrong,” she replied, letting her legs fall wide as he continued down her body.  


“Where shall I touch, Kadan?” he asked, nibbling the skin over her hip.  


She rocked her hips, trying to move him more towards her center. He chuckled and grabbed her hips, pinning her down. She let out a soft growl of need. “You know what I want,” she said, looking down at him.  


“Yes,” he agreed.  


“But you want me to say it.”  


_I need to hear you say it_ , he thought. But he thought that this was a good time to push himself...and her. “If you wish me to continue,” he said.  


She let out a little moan, her lips curling into a smile. “Look at you,” she murmured. “And you were so worried.”  


“You still have not said,” Fenris pointed out, kissing her hip and slowly letting his lips drag down the top of her thigh.  


“Fenris please lick me,” she breathed. “I need you-” the rest of her words disappeared into a giggle as he dragged his tongue down her thigh, leaving a trail that glistened. “You...fuck!”  


“I did as you asked, Hawke,” he said mildly, doing it again for effect. He looked up at her and caught her watching him with a huge smile on her face.  


“You’re a pain in the ass,” she said with mock severity.  


He licked her thigh again, moving just slightly closer to her center.  


“Fenris please, please lick my cunt!” Hawke gasped out, her body moving restlessly. “I need you so bad, I’ve needed you since I went to bed last night, please-” her words trailed off in an inarticulate cry of pleasure as he abruptly dragged the flat of his tongue from the bottom of her slit up to her clit. The sight of her so desperate, so needy for him, it drove him wild and he felt his control beginning to fray.  


“Pull your legs up,” he ordered her quietly. “So that I may see you.”  


She blushed, but did as he asked, spreading herself wide for him. Her lips were swollen and slick and his cock jerked in his trousers, aching to be sheathed in her warm embrace.  


“You are so beautiful,” he growled before burying his face between her thighs. Her strong legs muffled her cries somewhat as he licked her relentlessly, but she was still more than loud enough for him to hear every moan and whimper. Normally he was slow the first time, dragging it out to extract every bit of pleasure he could for her. But this time, this time he devoured her like a man possessed. 

He held her down at her hips as he licked and sucked, pushing her hard and fast towards the precipice and when she came he actually had to exert some effort in keeping her against his mouth.  


“Oh fuck, Fenris please it’s so sensitive please I can’t take it--!”  


He released one of her hips to bring his hand down, gently easing two fingers inside of her as he tenderly licked her lips, only brushing the tip of his tongue over her clit. She rocked onto his fingers wantonly, biting her lip. Fenris kissed her inner thigh as he replaced his tongue with his thumb, knowing that after orgasming so hard the feeling of his calloused digit against her sensitive clit would drive her wild. He wasn’t disappointed as she jerked beneath him, her strong legs almost managing to knock him away.  


“Be still,” he said softly, loving the way the sweat beaded between her breasts as he pushed her again towards her pleasure. “I should hate to have to stop when you are already so close.”  


“Don’t you fuck-fucking dare!” she groaned.  


He nipped the soft skin of her inner thigh as he began to move his thumb faster, holding his index and middle finger inside of her. Her entire body had gone rigid as she struggled to do as he asked, but he could see the little tremors that raced across her thighs and belly.  


“Fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh--” And then she was wailing his name, her body writhing and shaking and spasming and it was so fucking good that he heard himself snarling as he buried his face between her thighs again, not giving her a moments rest before he was sucking her clit, his fingers buried deep inside of her.  


She screamed, but it was such a good sound, a mixture of utter rapture with what sounded like his name as she struggled to pull away from his mouth and hands. But she didn’t ask him to stop as she usually did when he’d pushed her to such sensitivity, so he continued to devour her, pushing her over the edge again quicker than he would have imagined.  


“I can’t!” she panted, her voice desperate and breathy, her eyes tightly shut. “I can’t, Fenris please it’s too much it’s too good please-”  


“Stop?” he growled, scarcely letting her clit out of his mouth.  


She let out a frustrated groan, shaking her head. “No-fuck, Fenris I just please, please I need you to fucking take me or I’m going to lose my fucking mind please I’m begging you-”  


Her words sent a frission of need through him so intense that he felt his cock jerk, making him gasp against her. “Once more, Saoirse,” he growled against her, loving how the motion of his lips made her whimper and writhe beneath him. “Cum for me once more because when I take you I will not last, not with you so wet and beautiful and-” he lost the words for exactly what she was, instead opting to show her by pushing her over the edge a final time. His heart leapt as she moaned and screamed above him, her strong little body only just barely staying under his control as he licked and sucked her. 

_Maker she is so strong_ , he thought, grasping her hip as hard as he could as he sealed his mouth around her clit and pressed the flat of his tongue against it.  


Abruptly she went still and silent and then she was howling, her back bowing up off the bed so hard that he heard the headboard creak as his bindings struggled to hold her. He licked her through it until she collapsed on the bed, twitching.  


He pulled back, leaving a trail of gentle kisses down her lips and thighs before he sat up and looked down at her.  


She looked utterly and completely stunning.  


She was panting, her lovely full lips parted, her breasts heaving. Her hands clenched and unclenched in the bindings and then she opened her eyes and he heard himself growl at the look she gave him. It was a wild, ancient look, one that spoke of the sound of bodies coming together in a feral dance of teeth and nails and pleasure tinged by brief flashes of pain.  


“My heart,” he whispered.  


“Mine,” she growled back with such finality that it took his breath away.  


“I need you, Hawke,” he said, rising up to his knees and draping her legs over his elbows, just as he had imagined. “But if this has been too much...if you need me to stop, I will stop. ” He needed to say it. He needed her to know that she could stop him, even now when he was certain that all it would take was one thrust for him to spill himself inside of her.  


“Don’t you _dare_ ,” she said, giving him a wild, cocky smile. “I. Am. Yours.” Her eyes widened in an ancient, wild challenge. “Show me what you’ve got.”  


He needed no further coaxing.  


He slammed into her, filling her with one thrust as he snarled her name. She cried out, her eyes clenching shut as he pulled out and slammed in again. He grasped her legs tightly just above her knees, his eyes rolling back into his head at the feeling of her. She was so tight around him, so wet and swollen and utterly perfect and when he looked down at her and saw the feral smile on her face he answered it with one of his own.  


“Saorise,” he grunted, his body thrumming with his need for her as he pounded into her.  


“You feel so fucking good, Fenris!” she moaned, her lips curling. “But stop...stop holding back.” Her golden eyes searched his and then narrowed. “Take me, Kadan!”  


He scarcely recognized the sound that ripped its way from his throat as he pumped into her with abandon, his control utterly lost as the wildness in his spirit sought out the wildness in hers. Thrust for thrust she met him, his beautiful Hawke, her body moving in perfect time with his as he finally allowed himself to be utterly and completely free.  


He heard his blood rushing in his ears, felt his body tightening, and though he would have given anything to stay right there in that moment just on the edge, he found himself crashing over with a howl of utter release. The motion of his hips stuttered as he filled her with his seed, but he wasn’t ready to let her go. He pulled her legs onto his shoulders as he leaned down and kissed her, his arms sliding beneath her to clasp her to him like a drowning man. She was moaning into the kiss as he ground his hips against her, feeling their wetness leaking out around him as her little body grew tight and still at the friction of him against her clit. She followed him quickly over the edge, making a soft, ragged sound of release.  


Blindly Fenris groped above them and untied the knot that held her wrists with one hand, needing to feel her arms around him.  


As soon as the knot opened she hugged him, one of her hands tight across his back, the other sliding up into his hair.  


“My heart,” he panted, realizing that his cheeks were damp with tears.  


She kissed him, nodding, and when he brought his palm to her cheek he felt the tears there as well. “Mine,” she murmured.  


He collapsed on top of her nuzzling into her neck and whispering quiet endearments to her as the two of them slowly came down.  


“Are you all right?” she asked after a few minutes.  


He let out a quiet laugh, unwilling to break the stillness of the moment entirely. “I think it would be unwise for me to attempt to stand at this moment,” he said wryly.  


Hawke giggled. “Me too,” she said. She stretched beneath him, the motion making her tighten around his spent cock and he grunted, catching her mischievous smile.  


“Minx,” he growled into her neck, giving it a tender nip.  


She laughed a little breathlessly. “I can’t help it,” she said. “You make me...wild.” She brushed the hair off his forehead, her golden eyes searching his. “Was that all right?” she asked. “Did you enjoy it?”  


He snorted. “Do you really have to ask?” he retorted, knowing that because it was Saoirse, she did.  


“Yes,” she said, as he knew she would. “Because if I enjoy something, you want to give it to me.”  


“Oh, I very much want to give it to you,” he teased, rocking his hips.  


She gasped quietly, her lips curled into a smile that rather reminded him of the cat that had gotten into the cream. “Fenris.”  


“I did,” he said against her lips before kissing her again. “Very much. To see you so wanton...it was beautiful.”  


She blushed. “You were pretty magnificent yourself,” she said. “I’ve never heard you like that.”  


“I have never _been_ like that,” Fenris said.  


“Thank you for being that way with me,” she said. “For trusting me. For wanting me like that.”  


He nodded. “Thank you, Kadan. For the freedom to be that man with you.” He kissed her, brushing away her tears even as he felt her do the same. “For my freedom in general,” he said with a little smile.  


Her arms tightened around him as she nodded and they spent several minutes enjoying a long, languid kiss before Hawke pulled back.  


“We should get cleaned up,” she said.  


Though he was at loath to let her out of his arms, Fenris knew that she was right. He pulled out of her with a grunt, feeling familiar throb as he saw his spend begin to leak from her tender folds. He hurried to fill his ewer with water from the pump in the kitchens, returning to find her stretched out absently trailing her fingertips over her breasts and belly. He paused in the doorway, watching her until she glanced at him.  


“You are lovely,” he said, pouring the water into the washbasin and picking up a cloth.  


“Hush,” she said with a soft smile, rising to join him. “Do you mind?” she asked, gesturing at the water as her hand began to glow. “I’d rather not have freezing water in my nethers, if it’s all the same to you.”  


He chuckled and took a step back, marveling at how comfortable he was watching her use her magic for something so mundane. That wasn’t to say he felt that way about every mage, but with Hawke it was fine. They cleaned each other tenderly before sprawling back on his bed, her head on his chest and one of her legs slung over his.  


“Fenris?” she said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. Her voice was soft and sleepy.  


“Mmm?” he replied, nuzzling against her hair.  


“You changed me too,” she said. “I don’t know that you realize that, but you did.”  


He brought his hand up to caress her face. “How so?” he asked, genuinely curious.  


“I have had partners before,” she said. “And had those relationships end before. But none of them...none of them were like this. I’ve never had my heart be so tightly bound to another person before, to where I genuinely think losing them would break something fundamental in me.” She blushed. “I’m sounding like something out of one of Varric’s books,” she said wryly.  
He kissed her, having heard the echo of his own feelings in her words. It was comforting in a way to know that while she’d been in other relationships before, what they had was as alien to her as it was to him.  


“I don’t want you to take that to mean that I wouldn’t want you to leave if this wasn’t right for you anymore,” Hawke added in a rush and Fenris hugged her. “I just...I love you, Fenris. In a way that makes me think that I’ve never actually been in love before, if that makes any sense.”  


“It does,” Fenris murmured, hugging her tightly and dropping his chin so that he could kiss her. “The feeling is mutual, Hawke.”  


She made a happy sound and Fenris trailed his fingertips up and down her back. “How are you after...after that?” she asked softly. “I know you said you enjoyed it, but…” she made a vague gesture and let out a disgruntled snort. “I just want to be sure it didn’t send you somewhere dark,” she finished quietly, her lovely eyes searching his.  


Fenris nodded and caught her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “It did not,” he assured her, half-amazed himself that it was so. He was quiet for a moment, trying to put his thoughts into articulate words. “I think that...being that way with you is something I have to be in particular mental space in order to do. After the intimacy we shared before you left, then spending the night without you, I suppose I found myself needing something a little more…”  


“Raw?” Hawke supplied.  


Fenris nodded, grateful that she understood and didn’t seem to think less of him for it.  


“Makes sense,” Hawke said. “Did having the control make it more intense than it would have been otherwise?” she asked curiously.  


“You have always made me feel as though I had control, Hawke,” Fenris said with a little shrug. “From the very first time we kissed. I have always felt that you let me...steer how things go between us.”  


“But tying me up makes it _official_ ,” she said with a grin and Fenris snorted.  


“You are impossible,” he said, nipping at her neck. He thought for a moment about telling her that he’d been fantasizing about their wedding as well, but decided against it. They hadn’t spoken more about being “betrothed to be betrothed” and he didn’t want her to feel pressure.  


“You like it,” she replied, tilting her head to allow him access to more of her sensitive skin, and he was happy to oblige.  


“I do,” he said against where the pulse beat sure and strong under her skin. “I have always liked your sense of humor, Hawke. Even at its most...inappropriate.” He kissed her neck sweetly and then pulled back to look into her eyes. “Last night was the first night away from each other that we have had since my…” he swallowed hard, his ears abruptly filling with the creaking of the Victory’s hull. “My return,” he finished, firmly shoving the thoughts out of his head. “I missed you. I missed the warmth of your body against mine and listening to you snore while I read.”  


She wrinkled her nose at him. “I do not snore!”  


He raised an eyebrow. “And I do not brood.”  


She let out a surprised chuff of laughter, rolling her eyes. “I missed you too,” she said, kissing his nose. “A lot.” She hugged him tightly. “I would definitely rather sleep with you than without you.”  


He nodded. “As would I.”  


They lay cuddling for a long while, so long that Fenris actually thought that Hawke had fallen asleep when he heard her softly say his name.  


“Yes, Hawke?” he whispered back.  


“Does this mean that absence makes the cock grow harder?”  


Fenris snorted before giving her a mock-stern look. “That was bad, even for you, Hawke.”  


She grinned up at him. “Made you laugh though,” she said, sounding proud of herself.  


With a growl Fenris pulled her on top of himself and kissed her soundly. “You always do, Hawke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you all enjoyed! This was a fun chapter to write. It also represents the last of the pure fluff/porn chapters for quite some time. We are heading back into the plot with the addition of some things to really build on the themes of misuse of power and what that would mean for all the people of Kirkwall. Of course our friends get involved, because how can they not.


	34. No Rest for the Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris is disappointed by Isabela's continued selfishness, which leads to an unfortunate misunderstanding with Hawke. Hawke, during her angry walk home, is accosted by a Templar who reminds her just how precarious her position as a known apostate is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Threats of Violence/Torture**

Fenris had thought that he had gotten past being surprised by people, but he had to admit that hearing Isabela, a woman he had considered a friend, offer to allow the slaver Castillon to go in exchange for a ship had caught him off-guard. He stared at the pirate, his stomach sinking down to the soles of his feet. How could you make that offer? He thought, looking at the back of her head. She glanced over her shoulder and away quickly and Fenris clenched his fists. He saw Varric shifting uncomfortably and Aveline’s lips were pressed into a thin line.  


“If you want the ship, can’t we just kill him and take it?” Hawke said, her eyes not leaving Castillon.  


_Yes! Thank you, Hawke._ She was Isabela’s friend, he knew that she cared very deeply for the pirate. But surely...surely she couldn’t allow Isabela to have her way. Surely she couldn’t let a slaver go. Not Saoirse. Not his Hawke. She would never betray him that way. When Isabela spoke up again, he found himself almost wishing he’d taken her up on her earlier offer of slapping some sense into her.  


“You don’t just kill a man and take his ship. That’s crude and amateurish! How will he tell everyone I bested him if he’s dead?”  


Hawke gave her an exasperated look. “What happened to getting rid of Castillon??”  


“I am getting rid of him. Through peaceful means.” Isabela’s tone had gotten a little brittle, and Fenris felt a vindictive surge of pleasure at seeing her uncomfortable.  


“Coming from her, that’s priceless,” the slaver remarked wryly.  


Isabela’s eyes were bright as she looked at Castillon. “I saw the ship docked in the harbor, Castillon. She is splendid. I want her.”  


_Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?_ Fenris thought with disgust. He was fast. If Hawke allowed Castillon to go, Fenris was reasonably sure that he could still kill the man before he could resume his nefarious work. But Hawke wouldn’t do that to him. Surely she wouldn’t. She never let slavers live. But Isabela was her friend, would that bond be enough to have her make an exception?  


“Give me the documents, and you can have the ship. And you will never hear from me again,” Castillon said as though they were talking about a sheaf of wheat and not documents that proved that he was trading in human lives and misery.  


“Swear it,” Isabela said and Fenris clenched his fists. He could not allow this to happen. Surely Hawke couldn’t allow this to happen? He always deferred to her when they went on missions together, but could he allow her to do this? He didn’t think so; he’d never be able to look at himself in the mirror ever again.  


And what would it mean for them if she let Castillon go? Could he love a woman that permitted a slaver to go free? He knew in his heart that he couldn’t stop loving her, he was too far gone for that. 

But he could leave her. He would have to. _Hawke, please don’t let this happen._  


Castillion was looking smug and Fenris reached back to loosen his greatsword. “I swear it on my mother’s grave. Give me the documents.”  


But then Hawke drew her staff, and Fenris could hear the disgust and tightly controlled rage as she spoke. “Castillon dies here today, if I have anything to say about it.”  


The man had the audacity to laugh. “Enough with the blackmail then. Let’s settle this like civilized people.”  


Isabela tried to step between them, yelling for them to wait, but Hawke, his beautiful, fierce, loyal Hawke was snarling like a mabari as her staff whirled and called forth a rain of fire.  


The fight was short and brutal, though Castillon and his goons and traps were no match for them, not really. Hawke hadn’t even needed to heal them during the fight. She stepped over a mabari corpse with a sad glance and stalked over to Isabela, her shoulders rigid.  
Isabela, to his disgust, was pacing and talking to herself, looking angry. She rounded on Hawke as she approached. “Ugh, now what am I supposed to do with these useless documents?”  


Aveline stepped between the two women, her tone one that Fenris had heard when she was breaking up a bar fight right on the verge of happening. “I hate to state the obvious but...I could use them.”  


Isabela threw up her hands. “Fine, take the blasted things. Go...dispense justice, or whatever.” She handed the documents to Aveline, who tucked them into her belt pouch, her eyes not leaving Hawke and Isabela.  


Hawke looked calmer than Isabela did, but Fenris knew her well enough to see the anger that simmered just below the surface.  


_Thank you, Hawke,_ he thought, feeling a sudden surge of shame. How could he have even considered that she might betray him by letting Castillon go?  


He heard himself growl with anger as Isabela turned to Hawke, her dark eyes blazing. “After all we’ve been through together, how could you do that to me?”  


He would have expected a quip from Hawke, maybe something about how Isabela stole the Tome of Koslun, but Hawke’s tone was flat.  


“Think about it. You know he didn’t deserve to walk.” Her golden eyes glared back at Isabela, who quailed under the intense scrutiny.  


“No, he didn’t,” Isabela said with a sigh. “I really hate it when you’re right.” She turned and slunk away, leaving the four of them staring after her.  


“Let’s get this cleaned up,” Hawke said with resignation. Aveline and Varric nodded and began to walk around checking bodies as Hawke approached him.  


“Are you all right?” she asked, reaching up and wiping a splatter of blood from his cheek.  


Fenris took a deep breath that sounded unsteady even to his own ears. “No,” he admitted. “I am...furious. Furious that slavers like Castillon still operate so brazenly. Furious that someone I thought to be a friend could...could....”  


“I know,” Hawke said. “I am too. I’m glad I was here.”  


“As am I,” Fenris said, reaching out and taking her hands. “Thank you for intervening. For a moment I thought that your friendship with Isabela might cloud your...” he trailed off as he saw her eyes widen and fill with shock and hurt. He knew instantly that he had made a horrible mistake. It was his own fear that had made him doubt for even a moment what Hawke would do. His fear and the terrible weight of a lifetime of being disappointed by the selfishness of other people. It had nothing to do with the woman he knew her to be.  


She pulled her hands out of his. “Might cloud my...judgement?” she said, staring at him. “As in...I might let a slaver get away because Isabela is my friend?”  


Fenris felt his heart begin to pound. He had to make her understand that the question was a reflection of him and not how he saw her, but as he met her eyes, he feared it was too late. “I only meant that-”  


“Meant that, what?” Hawke cut him off, her golden eyes blazing. “That after all this time, after everything some part of you still thinks that I am capable of that?” To his horror, tears had begun to trickle down her face. He stepped forward to wipe them away but she backed away from him, angrily swiping at them herself.  


“No!” he said, desperate to make her understand. “Hawke, I only meant that I-I was surprised by Isabela and-”  


“I’m not Isabela,” she said quietly, her eyes searching his. “I am me. And this is us. And I would hope that you of all people knew that I could never let a slaver walk. I wouldn’t have even before falling in love with you.”  


“I know!” Fenris said. “Please, Hawke. I’m sorry. I did not mean to-to-”  


“To show me just how little you really think of me?” she said softly.  


“NO!” Fenris exclaimed so loudly that Varric’s head whipped around. He and Aveline looked at each other and began to walk over.  


“Can you finish this up?” Hawke asked the dwarf as he drew closer. “I need to go.”  


“Of course, Hawke,” Varric said, looking back and forth between them. “Are you-”  


“Thanks,” Hawke said. She gave Fenris one last heartbreaking glance and then stalked away, her shoulders rigid.  


“What happened?” Aveline asked, her green eyes filled with worry.  


Fenris stared after Hawke, feeling like his world was crumbling. He flinched when the door slammed behind her. “I have made a terrible mistake,” he whispered.

####

Hawke hurried away from Castillon’s dock, tears streaking down her face. How could he? After everything that they had been through together, didn’t he know her better than that? Didn’t he know that she would never, ever allow a slaver to escape?  


She clenched her fists at her sides as she walked. She knew that he would view Isabela’s choices as a betrayal--hell, she viewed them as a betrayal--and that it had probably messed with his head. She forced herself to slow down and take a deep breath. _You know that he trusts you,_ she thought to herself. _You know him. You know what he has endured. Can you blame him for his fear? All he said was that he had a moment of doubt. That it was only a moment speaks to how far he has come in the last few years._ She felt a rush of shame that brought her to a halt. She had reacted badly. The escalating tensions in the city, her worries about how haggard Anders had been looking, all of it was coalescing to put her on edge. She should have stayed and talked to Fenris, rather than stalking off in a snit, as her mother would have said.  


Hawke sighed and turned around to return to Castillon’s landing. She owed Fenris an apology.  


“Excuse me, but are you Serrah Hawke? Champion of Kirkwall?”  


Hawke suppressed a groan. She was decidedly not in the mood. “I’m afraid so,” she said, turning to face the voice. She found herself being forced to look rather far up, as the man was extremely tall. 

He was heavily muscled and he had dark hair and a neatly trimmed dark beard. Even in the dim light she could see that his eyes were quite pale, and they crinkled at the corners as he looked down at her, smiling. He was very handsome and he had a self-assurance that suggested that he knew it.  


“It is an honor, Champion,” the man said.  


Hawke inclined her head. “You have me at a disadvantage,” she said cautiously. “Serrah…?”  


“I am Ludolf,” the man said, holding out his hand. “Ludolf Kaines.”  


Hawke reached out and shook his hand, and felt her eyes widen as her connection to the Fade was abruptly severed.  


A Templar.  


Well, shit.  


She withdrew her hand as soon as it was polite, careful to keep her face blank. “Was there something that you needed, Ludolf?” she asked with calmness that she did not feel.  


“What brings you down to this part of Lowtown?” Ludolf asked.  


Hawke shrugged. “I had to bring a friend some documents,” she said.  


Ludolf raised a dark eyebrow. “That’s rather a lot of blood for such a simple errand,” he said, jerking his chin towards the dark droplets on her sleeve.  


Hawke swallowed hard. “Someone tried to rob me a few blocks back,” she lied. “I bloodied his nose.”  


“I am sorry to hear it,” he said. “These streets are not safe for a lady at night. Perhaps I should walk you home.”  


“That won’t be necessary,” Hawke said quicker than she meant to and saw Ludolf’s eyes narrow.  


“I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I let you go alone,” he said and Hawke caught the subtle emphasis he placed on the words “let you go”. “One never knows what sort of creatures prowl these streets at night, Champion. Slavers, thugs...maleficarum.” His pale eyes flickered to her bloodied sleeve and Hawke suppressed a shiver at the not so subtle threat. “I must insist.”  


“I don’t see a uniform,” Hawke said with false brightness. “It would be stupid of me to wander off with a random man, if the streets are as dangerous as you say.”  


The corner of his lips curled up in a cold facsimile of a smile. “I think that you know what I am, Champion. Uniform, or no.”  


Hawke took a deep breath and nodded, knowing herself trapped. If she refused, he could outright invoke his authority as a Templar, which would bring attention she didn’t need or want upon her. It was better to let him feel like a big man who had spent an evening ordering around the Champion of Kirkwall than to actually expose what a little man he likely was. She gritted her teeth, fighting down a surge of rage that would only make it harder for her to keep her magic under control. She couldn’t give him anything over her.  


“Lead the way,” Hawke said, proud of how even she kept her voice. She just barely managed not to jerk away when Ludolf put his hand between her shoulder blades and gestured with his other for her to walk. She complied, her back rigid. She could feel Ludolf’s Templar abilities closing down around her like a glass around a spider and it put the hairs up on the back of her neck.  


“I can’t tell you what a thrill it is to get to speak to you alone,” Ludolf said quietly, his hand on her back guiding her off the main thoroughfare and into a quiet side street. “You have done...so many things for Kirkwall.”  


“I’m a giver,” Hawke said, her mouth running off with her as it often did when she was frightened.  


She felt his hand rise to her shoulder, pulling her to a halt. “You are an apostate,” Ludolf said.  


She let out a laugh that only sounded a little panicked. “Not exactly a secret after the whole Arishok thing,” she said, aware that her voice sounded higher than usual. “You remember? The time that I saved Kirkwall from the Qunari?”  


“It is no comfort to a man whose home and family have been lost to a fire that the hearth once kept him warm,” Ludolf said. “It is unconscionable that the Knight Commander has allowed you to remain free.”  


“But she _has_ allowed me to remain free,” Hawke said as evenly as she could. It was only through sheer force of will that she didn’t lash out with Fist of the Maker when Ludolf took her by the shoulder and slammed her into the nearest wall. All of the air went out of her lungs as her back struck and she found herself looking up into Ludolf’s pale eyes as he pinned her to the wall with his hand just underneath her gorget.  


Ludolf stepped closer to her and narrowed her eyes. “You should be in the Circle Tower,” Ludolf said. “There are rules for a reason. The sight of you out here flaunting your magic gives the other mages ideas.” His eyes narrowed. “You’ve had no issue flaunting it before, Champion. Why not do it now? Defend yourself.”  


_And give you a chance to have me made Tranquil?_ Hawke thought bitterly. _Fuck that, and fuck you._  


He smiled, but the expression was a mirthless one. “Everyone has something that they fear, Champion. What would it take to push you over the edge, I wonder. Shall I threaten you with violence?” He cocked his head. “You have no family left in Kirkwall,” he said with a cruel smile and Hawke clenched her fists so hard that her nails dug into her palms. “But everyone knows your friends. The dwarf who writes the stories has certainly made a name for himself. Would you attack me if I were to threaten to slit his throat?”  


Hawke felt the warmth of her fire magic at her fingertips as she glared into the Templar’s eyes. He smiled, nodding. “There,” he said softly. “Perhaps slitting his throat is too quick. My father was a butcher, you know. Flaying a man is not much different from skinning a pig, I imagine. I bet I could even get most of his hide off in one piece.”  


“Go fuck yourself!” she growled. Inside she felt rage coiling and uncoiling like an agitated snake. She wanted so badly to strike the Templar, but she knew, she knew where that would lead. The Gallows. And more than likely, a chantry sunburst.  


He stepped closer to her, alarmingly close, filling her space as he took hold of her chin and looked down into her eyes. Hawke felt her stomach drop as she tried to pull her chin away.  


“Let me go!”  


“Hawke?”  


Hawke could have fainted with relief at the sound of Aveline’s voice as Ludolf released her and took a step back. And there the Guard Captain was, striding up with her mouth set in a disapproving line. Behind her was Varric, Bianca drawn and ready.  


“Everything all right?” Aveline asked, her hand resting not so subtly on her longsword.  


“Master Tethras,” Ludolf said with an ugly smile. “We were just talking about you.”  


“Oh?” Varric asked mildly. “My ears are burning, do tell. I love talking about me.”  


Ludolf smiled coldly at him. “I should be going,” he said. He glanced over at Hawke and she shivered at the look in his eyes. There was such hate it chilled that to the bone. “Do think on what I said, Champion,” he said before turning and striding away.  


Aveline looked like she wanted to chase after him, but Hawke put a shaking hand on her arm. “He’s a Templar,” she whispered when he was out of earshot. “Please, Aveline, I just...I want to go home.”  


“Are you sure?” Aveline said.  


“What can you do?” Hawke said more sharply than she intended. “He’s under Meredith jurisdiction, Aveline, not yours. And what would we say, anyway?”  


“He had his hands on you,” Aveline said.  


“He’ll say he was searching me,” Hawke said wearily. She knew how this dance played out.  


“What _was_ he doing, Hawke?” Varric asked gently. “What did he mean when he said you were talking about me?”  


Hawke swallowed hard. “He was trying to goad me into using my magic on him,” she said quietly. “I get the feeling he’s done it to a lot of other mages.” She met Varric’s eyes, able to see the worry in them despite the darkness. “He threatened to-to hurt you,” she finished softly, unable to bring herself to repeat what Ludolf had said.  


Varric snorted, glancing down at Bianca. “I’d like to see him try.”  


“What he’s doing...someone should stop him,” Aveline said.  


Hawke sighed. “I’m sure he’s not the only Templar doing it,” she said bitterly. “It would explain how the numbers in the Gallows keep growing.” Inside her the rage continued to writhe, demanding that she acknowledge it and give it some outlet. She tamped it down as forcibly as she could. “I want to go home,” she said, feeling defeated and pathetic. Aveline and Varric glanced at each other, but nodded and together the three of them turned and headed for Hightown.  


Inwardly she felt rage warring with shame. She agreed with Aveline that someone should put a stop to Ludolf and the others like him. But she also knew that Meredith was unlikely to even believe Hawke’s accounting of what happened, let alone side with her. All going to the Knight Commander would do is bring Hawke once more under her scrutiny and give Ludolf a reason to make good on his threats. No. Better to let him think that he had won, as long as it meant that her friends were safe.  


The choice left her feeling helpless and ineffably tainted.  


Some champion she was.

####

Fenris took the steps in the Hanged Man two at a time, making his way to Isabela’s room. He’d managed to escape Varric and Aveline’s questions by ducking out of Castillon’s Landing and coming straight to Lowtown. He knew that it was craven of him, but he couldn’t bear the censure that he would surely face from Varric. So he had fled and worked himself into a towering fury by the time the familiar edifice of the Hanged Man came into view.  


He knocked --well, banged-- on Isabela’s door.  


“Go away, Hawke,” Isabela said tartly.  


“Hawke is not here,” Fenris replied.  


He heard her sigh. “Shit,” she said, her footsteps approaching. The door unlatched and Isabela waved him in. She had changed out of her bloodstained clothes and her hair was damp. “Fenris,” she said, stepping aside to let him in.  


“You were going to let a slaver go!” Fenris growled the moment the door was shut. “What is the matter with you, Isabela? I thought, after what happened with Hawke and the Arishok, that you had gotten over your selfishness!” He closed the distance between them, glaring at her.  


“Fenris, please-”  


“I thought that you and I were friends! Would you have sold me back to Danarius, had he offered you a ship?”  


She recoiled like he’d struck her and for one bitter moment he wished that he had. Her eyes began to water, the tears leaving glistening black trails down her face. “I made a mistake!” she said, not looking away from him. “I know that I did, Fenris. I don’t need you here berating me about it--the way Hawke looked at me was bad enough!”  


“A mistake,” he echoed. “That is a mild way to put being willing to let a slaver go to get yourself a new toy.”  


Her head snapped up, and though the tears still fell there was clear anger on her face as well. “A toy?” she said. “Is that what you think a ship is to me, Fenris?” She stepped closer to him and poked him in the chest. “Not all of us are fucking the Champion of Kirkwall,” she snarled. “Some of us have to work for our gold. With a ship I have freedom. I have choices. I can be my own woman again instead of Hawke’s fuckup friend!”  


Fenris bit back the angry remark he’d been about to make about ways he was certain Isabela could make money if she wanted to and forced himself to really look at her. He saw the shame scrawled across her face plain as day and to his great surprise, he felt his rage beginning to deflate.  


“I am angry at you,” he said in a more moderate tone. “I am...disappointed that you would have entertained the idea, given our friendship.”  


“I know,” she said. “I understand.”  


“I cannot trust you,” he said quietly. “And I am saddened by that,” he said, realizing how true it was. And I am angry because your choices have led to a quarrel with Hawke. He was self-aware enough to admit to himself that that was the source of great deal of his rage.  


“Please give me a chance to-to make it up to you,” Isabela said, wiping away her tears. “I’m not good at this feelings shit, Fenris, but I care about you. Hell, before you and Hawke got together I hoped you and I might…” she shrugged a shoulder.  


Fenris blinked, surprised. He’d assumed she flirted with him in the way she did with everyone. It had never occurred to him that there might be more to it. “It will take time,” he said grudgingly. He turned away from her and made for the door.  


“I’m sorry,” Isabela called after him.  


He paused and looked at her. “Be better,” he said simply, then stalked away. He hurried up the long steps to Hightown, his pace increasing as he drew closer to the Hawke Estate. He knocked on the door harder than he intended and heard Orana’s voice inside. Just as the door swung open he heard Hawke’s voice from behind him.  


“I’m here, Fenris,” she said.  


He spun around and in the light of the estate’s lanterns he could see the lines of exhaustion and worry etched onto her face. She was flanked by a murderous looking Aveline and a very worried looking Varric.  


“Kadan,” he said, stepping forward and holding out his hands.  


Her lips wobbled and then she was in his arms and he was clinging to her as tightly as he could. “I am sorry, Saoirse,” he whispered into her ear. “I am so sorry for what I said at the landing, for doubting, for letting you go off alone I-”  


She kissed him and then leaned her forehead against his. “I know,” she whispered. “I know and I won’t tell you it didn’t hurt, Fenris, but I understand. I’m sorry for storming off. It wasn’t fair of me to react that way.” She pulled back and looked up into his eyes with a ghost of her usual smile. “You’re allowed to have doubts,” she said quietly.  


Fenris cupped her cheek. “I do not doubt you,” he said firmly. “Not really. Not in any way that matters. Truly, I hope that you know that.”

Hawke nodded. “I do,” she said, turning her head and kissing his palm.  


“We should get you inside, Sweetheart,” Varric said with a glance around them.  


“Did something happen?” Fenris asked, looking around at the three of them.  


Hawke took his hand. “Inside,” she said, leading the way into the house where Orana waited patiently.  


“Can I get you anything, Mistress?” Orana asked, accepting Hawke’s staff and placing it reverently in the weapon rack.  


“A bath,” Hawke said right away.  


Orana nodded and then glanced at the three of them.  


“I should get home,” Aveline said. “As long as you are all right, Hawke.”  


Hawke nodded and hugged the taller woman tightly. “Thank you, Aveline,” she said in a ragged voice.  


Aveline nodded and extricated herself, giving Hawke a stern look. “Think about what I said,” she said firmly.  


Hawke sighed and nodded and with that, the Guard Captain took her leave.  


“I think we could all use a drink, Orana,” Varric said, filling the silence that followed.  


“Of course,” Orana said with a nod. “Let me get the bath running and I will get you all some wine, if that pleases you.”  


Hawke nodded with a grateful smile and Orana hurried off in the direction of the bathing chamber.  


The three of them made their way to Hawke’s sitting room, where Hawke flung herself down on the floor in front of the fire. Copper trotted in and plopped down next to her and she scratched his head absently.  


“Will you tell me what happened?” Fenris asked, sitting down cross-legged next to her.  


Hawke sighed and glanced at Varric. “You aren’t going to like it,” she said quietly.  


Fenris raised an eyebrow but remained silent. She was there with him and in one piece, surely whatever it was couldn’t be so bad. However, as she launched into the story of what had happened to her in the alley, Fenris quickly found himself proved wrong. She let him hold her hand and he did his best to keep from gripping hers too tightly as his anger quickly grew. If he could find this man Ludolf, he could crush his heart without anyone ever being the wiser.  


“Whatever you’re thinking about doing, don’t,” Hawke said tiredly.  


Fenris glanced up at her sharply and she gave a wry little chuckle.  


“I know you, Fenris,” she said. “When you make that face it usually means someone is about to get their heart ripped out.”  


“I was not going to rip it out,” Fenris said.  


“That was his heart-crushing face, Hawke,” Varric teased gently.  


Fenris snorted, but didn’t argue.  


Hawke shook her head at both of them before staring off into the fire. “I feel so helpless,” she said softly. “I hate it.”  


Fenris wrapped his arm around her waist and she leaned her head on his shoulder until Orana returned with drinks and news that the bath was ready. Hawke rose with a wince. “You two are welcome to stay,” she said as Orana handed them their wine. She threw hers back in a single gulp with a grateful look at Orana.  


“We will be here when you’re done, Hawke,” Fenris promised, rising as well and cupping her cheek.  


Hawke smiled at him, but there was such sadness in it that it made him ache.  


She plodded from the room, leaving him, Varric, and Copper staring after her worriedly.  


“I never should have let her go off alone,” Fenris said once Orana had left and Varric sighed.  


“It isn’t your fault, Broody,” Varric said. He took a sip of his wine. “I’m just glad that we found them when we did.”  


Fenris gritted his teeth and nodded, trying not to think of what would have happened had they not been there.  


“I am grateful,” he said, forcing himself to smile at his friend. “Thank you.” Still, as he sat with Varric and sipped his wine he felt the worries scrabbling around in his mind like an ant nest that had been disturbed. Things in Kirkwall were escalating, of that there could be no doubt. What would that mean for his beloved Hawke, who could scarcely keep from getting involved?  


_It is a dangerous thing to love a hero, my friend._  


Angrily, Fenris forced Zevran’s words from his mind. He himself was a dangerous thing, of that he was certain, and he knew there was no portion of his skill that he would not bring to bear in protecting the woman that he loved.

####

 _The shadows stretched long and impossibly dark in the Gallows as Captain Cullen led her up to the Circle Tower. She should have known that it was too good to last. Her family home. Freedom. Fenris._  


_Now they had finally come to take her away._  


_She was to be made Tranquil after all._  


_**It doesn’t have to be this way.**_  


_A voice from the shadows. A voice she knew._  


_“Father?”_  


_Malcolm Hawke stepped out of the darkness, the familiar crows feet in the corners of his eyes crinkling. Suddenly the Templars, the Gallows, all of it was gone and they were back in Lothering._  


_“Sweetheart, you don’t have to live this way,” he said, his hand gentle on her cheek before he caught her in a tight hug._  


_“What do you mean?” she asked, clinging to him._  


_“You are so strong, my Saoirse,” he said. “Too strong to be locked up in a tower. That’s why your mother and I named you ‘Saoirse’. It means ‘Freedom’. You do not have to go to a cage.”_  


_“But Meredith-”_  


_“You have within you almost all the power you need to make sure that she never bothers you, or anyone you love ever again.”_  


_Suddenly she was surrounded by shadows, the long shadows of trees._  


_No._  


_Not trees._  


_A forest of gallows._  


_Her friends hanging all around her, their eyes glazed over, cold, dead...but somehow still accusatory._  


_And then screaming. Familiar screaming. Screams she had heard when the bolts had struck and there was Varric bound to a torturers table, slowly being flayed alive by a grinning Templar._  


_“HAWKE!” he screamed and it was somehow wet and hollow and the worst sound she’d ever heard. “HELP ME!”_  


_But she couldn’t. The Templars power was sinking her, covering her with the sticky viscosity of honey in winter as she struggled to call her magic._  


_“You are so close,” her father said. “To being everything that I always knew you could be. You need only to screw your courage to the sticking place and take the power that is yours by right.”_  


_And then he was gone and in his place it was her. Her in unfamiliar armor that glowed dully red. Holding her hand out and the Templars bursting into flame and crumbling to ash._  


_Varric at her side, uninjured._  


_Her friends alive. Unharmed. Whole._  


_The Circle Tower burning as freed mages cheered her name._  


_She could do it. She could destroy it all. Save them all._  


_“A true Champion,” her father whispered. “Whom no one can challenge. Not Templars, not Meredith, not the Divine. No one. All you have to do, my child, is reach.” He held out his hand._  


_Hawke instinctively began to reach for it when she looked up and met his eyes. There was no warmth, only eagerness and hunger and suddenly she **knew.**_  


_She jerked her hand back, heart thudding._  


_“Begone, Demon,” she snarled._  


_Her father’s features melted before her eyes, dribbling down to the floor only to be absorbed into the shifting red tones of flame and lava. The ground bubbled and from the pool that had been her father, a Rage Demon rose. It’s fiery eyes caught hers as it cocked its head back and forth like a predatory bird._  


_**I said nothing untrue,** the thing said in a voice like water hitting embers. **You are very strong. You need only a little help.**_  


_“I don’t want your kind of help!” Hawke said, clenching her fists._  


_**You will,** it said and flamed leapt up around them and suddenly the air around them was filled with the sounds of her friends screaming in agony and fear._  


_A pair of figures stepped through the flames, holding hands, and Hawke heard herself let out a moan._  


_Bethany and their mother. “You could have saved us,” Bethany said._  


_“We need not have left you all alone, my dear,” her mother echoed._  


_“Stop it!” Hawke said, shaking her head. “Stop it!”_  


_There was an awful crunching of bones and a thin reedy wail and when Hawke looked Bethany’s body was twisted and broken as it had been the last time she saw her. Leandra’s skin was gray and the awful wound across her throat gaped as she spoke._  


_“You could have saved us.”_  


_“You could have saved us,” Bethany hissed, taking a jerking step towards her._  


_“You could have saved us,” echoed a chorus of voices, corpses clawing their way out of the rubble of the Qunari invasion._  


_“You could have saved us,” said the hollow, broken bodies of her friends._  


_“You could have saved us,” said Fenris, alive, but equally hollow with his collar around his neck and a leering shadow at the end of the leash._  


_“You could have saved us...sweetheart,” and she couldn’t look, couldn’t see him broken and gone and dead and she SCREAMED, calling down a deluge of fire not caring if it took her too she couldn’t take anymore-_  


_Hand so hot that they felt cool reaching through the flames and grabbing her shoulders. “HAWKE!”_  


_Twisting away from the demon and breaking into a run. She would rather die, she would rather throw herself into the Waking Sea than allow the demon to take her to become an abomination to see the fear in Fenris’ eyes when he looked at her she couldn’t she couldn’t-_  


_Still it pursued her._  


_“HAWKE!”_  


_Trapped. A dead end in what looked just like the alley where Ludolf had cornered her, the voices following the worst one was her own._  


_**We can save them all.**_  


_And then another voice, the one that made tears as hot as the fires she had called stream down her face._  


_**Sweetheart.**_  


_“NO!” she clenched her eyes shut, shaking her head back and forth. “No, please just leave me alone I can’t-”_  


_And then there was ice in the cold, sluicing the tears away as it washed over her. Freezing rain, pouring down, putting out the demon washing away the shades washing away the red-eyed version of her that burned to make things right._  


_**I will get you in the end.**_  


Hawke sat up, choking and coughing, her throat raw from screaming. The wooden ceiling of the bathing chamber was obscured by Fenris and Varric’s worried faces. She lurched up unsteadily. She was home in her bathtub. She remembered now. She’d wanted to wash off the feelings of shame and failure that had dogged her the whole walk back to Kirkwall. It was a nightmare.  


Just a nightmare.  


But inside, inside she thought that she could feel the glowing embers of Rage.  


Had she let the demon in? Had it sensed the burning resentment inside her that Ludolf had fanned into new flames? Had it latched onto her while she slept?  


Was she an abomination?  


“NO!” she sobbed out loud at the thought.  


“Shhhhh, it’s all right, sweetheart,” Varric said, rubbing her back gently.  


“We are here, Hawke,” Fenris added.  


_You shouldn’t be here,_ Hawke thought as panic warred with the anger. _I could hurt you._ She couldn’t handle their concern and gentle comfort, not when it made them so vulnerable to her. “I think I should go to bed,” she said, rising and accepting the towel that Fenris held out to her. She waved off Varric’s hand and climbed out of the tub, wrapping the towel tightly around herself. What she needed to do was talk to Anders, but she knew that the two men she loved most in the world would stop her with questions. She couldn’t bear telling them that she might be compromised. No need to tell them if she asked Anders to check. And if she was...she knew that he had increasingly started to regret inviting Justice in. Surely he would put her out of her misery before she had a chance to bring any more ruin to the people she loved.  


“I can stay with you,” Fenris said, but she shook her head.  


“I just want to be alone,” she said, hating the hurt in his eyes that she didn’t have to see to know was there.  


It was silent for a long moment before she heard Varric sigh. “Are you sure, Sweetheart?”  


“Don’t call me that!” she said, turning away from both of them. “Just...I’m just tired. Please just let me rest.”  


“All right, Saoirse,” Varric said in a brittle tone that made her heart hurt. “Come on, elf.”  


Hawke felt, rather than heard Fenris hesitate, but he followed Varric after a moment.  


Hawke began to pace. She had to go and see Anders. She would wait until Varric and Fenris settled in her office, as she was sure they would, and then she’d sneak out and go to Darktown. One way or another, this would be settled tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! You may have noticed that this fic has changed quite a bit. I was really unhappy with basically everything that I had written since "Bound but Free" and decided that it brought the fic to a screeching halt. I have gone back and re-written those chapters, using some of the old content, into what I feel is a much tighter version of the story. I felt a lot of the storyline with the Templars was just self-indulgent and unnecessary, so I have only kept a little. I think the pacing is much better now and it will allow me to begin once again moving towards endgame and post-game content. Thank you all so much for your patience and I'd love to know what you think of the changes.


	35. Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke seeks answers after her nightmare, which leads to an...odd conversation with Anders and a painful one with Varric.

“Are you all right?” Fenris asked his friend as the two of them returned to Hawke’s sitting room. Despite her words, they left the door slightly ajar in case Hawke needed them.  


“No,” Varric said, his heavy brows furrowed. “I’ve never seen her like that.”  


“Nor have I,” Fenris said. It was clear that Hawke had had an awful nightmare and that whatever it was had her wanting to put distance between herself and the people who loved her the most. “I do not think it was the nightmare about being made Tranquil,” he said, staring off into the fire.  


“No,” Varric agreed. “There’s more invective than just...raw terror with that one these days.”  


“I...I would be inclined to say it had to do with our...fight,” Fenris forced himself to admit.  


Varric glanced over sharply. “Fight? You mean why she stormed off after we dealt with Castillon? The ‘mistake’ you made?”  


Fenris nodded miserably. “But she was...odd with you too,” he hurried to say, not wanting Varric to ask more questions. “So I do not think that is it.”  


But of course the dwarf asked. It was Varric. “Can I ask what happened?” Varric said.  


Fenris sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I said I was relieved that her friendship with Isabela did not cloud her judgement when it came to dealing with the slaver.”  


Varric winced. “As tightly wound as she has been lately with all the Mage Templar stuff...I am not shocked that set her off.”  


Fenris blinked at him. He knew that Hawke was worried, but he was ashamed to admit that he wasn’t aware of the extent of her worry.  


“She hasn’t told you how scared she is,” Varric said, once again displaying his alarming capacity to guess what was going through Fenris’ head. “I’m not shocked, Broody. She worries about you too, you know.”  


“She can still talk to me,” Fenris said, feeling miserable at the thought that she didn’t feel like she could share her worries with him. Was that not what he was there for, as her partner? Fenris bit back the sudden, irrational surge of jealousy at depth of the friendship that Varric shared with Hawke. It was ridiculous, and unworthy. Varric had never wavered from Hawke’s side, something that he himself could not say. Yet, a tiny seed of resentment lingered.  


“If it is not Tranquility,” he forced himself to say, shaking off the dark mood. “I can think of only one thing that would make her hide away from us.”  


Varric’s eyes widened. “Shit. You think it has to do with demons.”  


Fenris felt his heart begin to beat faster. “That is the only thing I can think of.” His throat had suddenly gone dry. He knew that possession was a risk that every mage lived with every day. But he would know, wouldn’t he, if Hawke had succumbed? But she wouldn’t. She abhorred demons. Nothing could tempt her to accept one.  


“Well, shit,” Varric said.

####

Hawke crept out of her room, putting her finger up to her lips when Copper glanced her way. The big mabari got to his feet with a lazy yawn and trotted up the stairs, butting her with his heavy head.  


“I’ll be back in a bit, boy,” she said, leaning down and letting him lick her face. “I need to go and see Anders.”  


Copper cocked his head with a whine.  


“Shhhh,” Hawke said, glancing down at her office. “It’s ok, just magic stuff, ok? No need to sound the alarm.”  


He let out a grunt and nudged her legs with his massive head, almost knocking her down.  


“You stay here,” she said.  


He glanced towards the office where she was certain Varric and Fenris were ensconced and let out the little growl that usually turned into furious barking.  


“Really?” she sighed. “You’re going to blackmail me?”  


His stubby tail wagged as his tongue lolled from his mouth.  


She couldn’t help but smile and roll her eyes. “Fine,” she said. “But you have to be quiet.” She could have sworn he nodded and immediately fell in by her side, padding quietly with her as she  
hurried down the outside edge of the stairs, careful to avoid the squeaky parts. She slipped down to the door that led to the rarely used cellar and crept inside, leaning against it with a sigh of relief when it closed behind her. Orana must have been in her rooms and Varric was likely writing, expecting that she would sleep for a few more hours. Fenris was probably with him, or attacking his practice dummy after she had brushed him off earlier. She felt her heart give a little lurch, hating to have hurt him once again.  


But it was better that he was not nearby. She wanted to be sure she was not an abomination before she saw him again.  


Before she saw any of them again.  


Because if she was...she was going to ask Anders to kill her. And if he wouldn’t, well, there were a lot of ways to die in Kirkwall.  


Shoving the dark thoughts aside so that she could focus on not being heard, she hurried through the disused cellar and out the door in Darktown right next to Anders clinic. Once she stepped inside, the familiar smell of drying elfroot greeted her and she found herself breathing a sigh of relief.  


An adolescent gray cat slinked over to her, ignoring Copper and rubbing against her shins with an alarmingly loud “meow!”.  


“Can I help you?” Anders said from the back, sounding exhausted. Hawke suddenly felt a surge of guilt. She knew that Anders already had so much on his plate with the clinic and doing all he could to aid his fellow mages. Her guilt only intensified when he stepped out into the dim light of the clinic. There were dark hollows under his eyes and he looked like he’d lost weight. His eyes widened when he saw her. “Hawke!” he said, hurrying forward and giving her a hug. He pulled back and knelt down, giving Copper a playful tousle behind the ears. The Mabari had always been reserved with Anders, but he tolerated the touch with gentle good humor. She realized with a start that Copper hadn’t changed his behavior towards her at all. But she’d had him for years. Maybe his loyalty to her would supersede his hatred for demons? She realized belatedly that Anders had asked her a question.  


“What are you doing here?” Anders repeated, looking worried.  


“I needed to talk to you,” she said, searching his face for some sign that Justice saw a demon within her. But Anders only looked tired, and a little nervous.  


“I was hoping to speak to you as well,” Anders said. “I’m going to be trying something. I thought you’d want to be a part of it.” He took a deep breath and then spoke in a rush, as though he had been rehearsing. “What I did with Justice was unnatural. It should have never have happened.”  


Hawke flinched before she could stop herself and saw the infinitesimal narrowing of Anders’ eyes. “Is there some way to undo it?” she rushed to ask.  


Anders’ eyes brightened. “I’ve spent the last 3 years researching the methods of Tevinter magisters. They’re the only ones who have ever sought to reverse spirit possession, not just behead the victims. I believe I have a formula for a potion that can separate Justice and me. Without killing either.”  


Hawke stared at him as the implications washed over her, not just for her, but for all mages. If possession could be cured as easily as a laceration or broken bone, it would utterly disrupt the Chantry’s hold on Thedas’ mages.  


_And it could help me if I am possessed,_ Hawke thought, her heart beginning to pound. _No one would ever need to know how weak I was._  


“Is it dangerous?” she asked.  


Anders gave a little shrug and she once again thought how drawn and tired he looked. “There are always dangers with magic,” he raised his eyes to hers. “But i believe it will be worth the cost.” The hope in his voice, such a departure from how lost he’d been sounding of late, struck a nerve in her heart. She gave him her most reassuring smile. “Surely that’s worth any risk it entails.”  


The relief on his face was palpable as he told her the ingredients they would need, and he even chuckled a little at her disgust at the source of the Sela Petrae.  


“Ok,” Hawke said, resigning herself to once again heading into caves and the sela petrae. “Is it just the potion? Is there anything more to this ritual?”  


Anders shook his head with a little shrug. “No, no ritual. Just mix up the potion and...boom. Justice and I are free. And we can take our rightful place among free mages.”  


_This could change everything,_ Hawke thought. “I assure you we’ll find them,” she said. Normally she would have asked who else he wanted to bring along, but in her present state she didn’t really want to see anyone else. Anders seemed to agree, and the two of them made for the sewers together. Once they had reached the Darktown entrance, Anders hesitated as though he was going to ask her something. She raised an inquiring eyebrow and he sighed.  


“You and Fenris seem happy,” he said, and sounded wistful.  


She swallowed the memory of sending him and Varric away and nodded. “We are,” she said quietly. “He’s a good man, Anders.”  


“I hope that you know what you’re doing,” Anders said. “He has hurt you before.”  


“He is not the same person he was then,” Hawke said, immediately leaping to her partner’s defense. “Neither am I.”  


Anders' answering smile was sad. “Perhaps one day all mages will be able to find such happiness,” he said before turning away and opening the grate into the sewer.  


It wasn’t a pleasant excursion. The sewers were dark, filled with rats and bandits that would have been happy to separate them from their purses...and lives. With just the three of them it was a challenge to work their way through, but they were able to succeed in collecting the sela petrae.  


Anders put the samples she handed him into some little glass containers with a nod of satisfaction and Copper gave a disgusted sneeze.  


“Only the Drakestone now,” he said, sounding pleased. It was still dark when they left the sewers, and though she was a little nervous about going to Sundermount at night, Hawke allowed her friend to lead her out of the city and up the winding paths. The sharp tang of the salt airways pleasing, and for a moment Hawke found herself wondering if today would be her last sunrise. It would have to be, if Anders’ potion didn’t work. She couldn’t allow herself to be used in Meredith’s war on mages, as she would inevitably be if it came out that she was an abomination. Maker, Meredith would almost certainly point to how much freedom Hawke had enjoyed as the reason for her fall. Restrictions would tighten, which would drive mages to fighting back harder and more desperately.  


Hawke gritted her teeth and glanced to the East, where the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. She was not a monster. She refused to become a monster. She would throw herself from the top of a cliff before she would add fuel to Meredith’s fire.  


Copper whined and ducked his head under her hand and Anders glanced back with a worried look.  


“Are you all right, Saoirse?” he asked, falling back to walk alongside her. “You have been very quiet.”  


She wanted so badly to share her worries with someone. To have someone see and understand her fear. But if his potion worked, there was no need to burden him further. There was no need for him to see how desperately she feared becoming that which he already was.  


So she forced herself to smile and nod. “Just tired,” she lied. “It has been a long few days.”  


It was plain from his expression that he didn’t believe her, but he did not press. They walked in silence to the mine and then they were beset by spiders and the time for talking had passed.  


The massive arachnids proved more challenging than the assorted bandits and the sewers, and Copper let out an awful yelp when one knocked him to the ground and savaged him.  


Hawke felt the rage rise and slammed the spider away from her precious dog with a scream, before calling upon fire to scorch the disgusting creature and its brethren.  


When the flames cleared there were only charred, twitching corpses and Anders gave her an evaluating look.  


“You are stronger than you were,” he said and she felt her stomach sink.  


_Stronger because I am aided by a demon? Please no._  


Hawke dropped to her knees by Copper, who lay on his side panting and letting out awful little whimpers. She rested her hand on his head and called up her Healing Aura, casting her Group Heal spell at the same time. She watched the lacerations heal and felt the poison purifying and disappearing from Copper’s system. She knew that he was healed when he rolled onto his back with his tongue out, wiggling his body back and forth with a joyful bark.  


She smiled down at him and felt her eyes prickle. Surely he wouldn’t bare his belly to her if she were an abomination?  


At least she knew that if she was, and today was her last day, Varric and Orana would make sure that he was well taken care of.  


Anders helped her to her feet and she searched his eyes for any sign that Justice saw something like himself within her. But all she saw was the familiar warmth and sadness that always lingered there. 

He squeezed her hands and then pulled away, squaring his shoulders. “There should be Drakestone nearby,” he said.  


Copper trotted off ahead of him, happily barking whenever he found a deposit, and with his help they were soon able to leave the cave and start for home.  


As they came around a corner, the full view of the sunrise across the Waking Sea suddenly became visible, and the vibrant golden light, tinged at the edges with soft lavender brought tears to Hawke’s eyes. For all the misery in the world, she wasn’t sure that she was ready to leave it just yet. Anders had learned to control Justice, perhaps she could-but no. She knew how this story ended. For all the Justice could be frightening, he had entered the world a spirit of Justice. Rage was fundamentally different. A lifetime of beautiful sunrises weren’t worth the untold horror that she could inflict on the world as an abomination. She would say her goodbyes here if it meant never having to see Fenris’ face the moment he realized that she had been too weak to resist temptation. The moment that he realized that she’d failed him and become everything he’d ever feared.  


She would rather die.  


“Something is wrong,” Anders said, catching her wrist and pulling her to a halt. Immediately the air was filled with the low rumble of Copper’s growl and Anders let her go. “Hawke, you can talk to me. Is it the Templars? Did they-” he swallowed hard. “You can tell me if they hurt you.”  


“No,” Hawke whispered, sinking down onto a fallen tree and staring out at the glorious sunrise.  


She felt Anders sit down next to her. “But something has changed,” he said softly. “I knew the moment you walked into the clinic, Hawke.”  


She heard herself let out a little sob and covered her face. Sweet Maker, she was an abomination, that had to be it.  


Anders put his arm around her shoulders and tugged her towards him and Copper growled again.  


“Oh hush!” he snapped at the dog. “I’m not just going to sit here awkwardly and let her cry, Copper. If you don’t like it, grow some arms!”  


The Mabari desisted with a grumpy snort, coming to lean against her legs.  


“Hawke, you can talk to me,” Anders said in the soft, gentle voice that she had heard him use many times on those who patronized his clinic. “Please, I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”  


“I had a dream,” she somehow managed to say. “I-I’ve been so frightened, Anders, so fucking angry, and I fell asleep in the bath and I had a dream where I saw all of you hang and-and worse! I saw my mother and Bethany and I-I-”  


“I think I can see where this is going,” he said gently. “Who was it?” he asked. “Desire? Pride?” She thought she saw a flicker of blue in his eyes as they narrowed. “Or was it Rage?”  


Hawke let out a little sob, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself. She felt Anders weight shift and then he was nudging Copper out of the way and kneeling in front of her, taking her hands.  


“It looked like my father!” she managed to say through the tears. “And it showed me...Maker-”  


“The most awful things you could imagine,” Anders said. “And told you that it could give you the power to be sure they never happened.”  


Hawke nodded, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.  


“Did you accept Rage’s offer?” Anders asked, his eyes searching hers.  


Hawke shook her head. “But I wouldn’t have to for it to possess me,” she said. “Right?”  


Anders shrugged. “It’s hard to say,” he said gently. “It varies from person to person. But you are not weak-willed, Hawke.”  


She shivered, thinking back to how Varric screamed. “I was desperate in that moment,” she said. “Perhaps-” anything she might have said was forestalled by the sudden hum of electricity through her body. It knocked her back off of the tree, leaving her gasping for air and staring up at Anders with wide, frightened eyes. Copper snarled and lunged at the other mage, who batted him aside with his staff. 

“Stop!” Anders ordered.  


“What the fuck!” Hawke said, staggering to her feet. “Copper, sit!”  


The dog let out a low rumble, but obeyed, his lips curling into a silent snarl as he glared at Anders.  


Anders looked back and forth between them, giving her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, but I’m not a blood mage like Merril, it’s the easiest way for me to tell. If there was a demon within you, it would have protected itself just then.” He shrugged and put his staff away. “You aren’t possessed, Hawke.”  


Before she knew what she was doing, she threw her arms around his neck with a sob of relief. He stroked her back tenderly, leaning his head against hers. She felt like an ass, because here she was unbelievably relieved to not be what he was.  


“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not entirely sure how to phrase what she was sorry for. “Anders I don’t-”  


“It was my choice,” he said sadly. “Our choice.” He pulled back, his lips curling into a heartbreaking parody of a smile. “Knowing you, Hawke, you would have made the same choice, had you befriended Justice as I did. You’ve made equally dangerous choices to protect people you care about.”  


She could hardly argue with that, so she hugged him again and then took a step back. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am.” She gave him her best reassuring smile. “I can help you brew the potion,” she said. “Then you can...can…” but Anders' face had gone ashen and suddenly she realized that in her fear and desperate hope she had allowed herself to be tricked. “You lied to me,” she said, taking a step back from him. “There’s no potion.”  


He had the good grace to look a little shamefaced as he shook his head. “There is no potion,” he said. His voice grew animated again. “But what we have gathered will bring freedom for more than just me and Justice. It will help mages throughout Thedas. In the face of that, one lie means little.” He looked away from her towards the rising sun. “There is one more thing I would ask of you, Hawke. And I can’t tell you why. I must get inside the chantry...without being seen. Will you talk to the grand cleric for me? Distract her long enough for me to do what must be done?”  


_Freedom for mages throughout Thedas,_ Hawke thought, her heart beginning to beat faster. She thought of Fenris’ dream of their children, her apostate son. Was it possible that she could help create a world where people like her didn’t have to fear passing their gifts on? A world where the issue of having a child with the man she loved could be as simple as did they want one, or not? Rather than, what if we have one and must choose between going into hiding and allowing their child to be raised in a Circle Tower? What if they could make a world where mages weren’t so tightly constrained and pressured that so many felt the need to open themselves to demons, just to get a little space to breathe?  


She looked over at her friend, the man who she’d seen deliver countless babies, heal countless wounds. Anders was a good man, she knew that much. Surely she could trust that whatever he had in mind was nothing so terrible? If she trusted his word that she was not possessed, surely she could trust him on this?  


“Tell me your plan,” she said, deciding to help before she even realized that she had.  


He shook his head. “You would not thank me if I told you. If you support freedom for mages, support me. That’s all I can say.”  


Hawke swallowed hard, but nodded.  


Anders’ eyes were intense as they met hers. “Give the Grand Cleric one final chance to hear what we have suffered. To pick a side. Perhaps she’ll be more inclined to listen to you.”  


“Anders...I can’t act blindly,” Hawke said gently. Why wouldn’t he trust her? “Tell me your plan.”  


Much to her surprise, Anders reached up and tenderly cupped her cheek. “I am taking a risk. I would not see you drawn into it.” He let his hand drop abruptly and his expression turned cold so quickly that it almost left her feeling disoriented. “But maybe your support of mages ends at talk. It is easy to support freedom if no one must not die to achieve it. You cannot pretend friendship, then stop now.”  


Hawke felt her temper flare as she stared at him. “Being a friend doesn’t mean that I have to support your every decision!” she said with heat. Maker knew her friends certainly felt free to tell her when they disagreed with hers!  


“You cannot care for me and despise what I stand for,” Anders said with a mulish expression that she wanted to slap off of his face. “I am the cause of mages. There is nothing else inside me. Will you aid us now? Or does your support end at the chantry door?”  


Hawke gritted her teeth. After giving her her freedom by assuring her she was not an abomination, she felt obligated to help and she could tell from his expression that he knew it. “Tell me what you would have of me then,” she said coldly. “But I won’t forget you blackmailed me to get it.”  


She saw his shoulders relax and then suddenly he was the sweet, charming man she knew still existed inside of him. “I promise you, whatever happens, it is on my head. It will not come back on you. Go to the chantry. Talk to the grand cleric. I will join you when I’m done.”  


Their walk back to the Chantry was a silent one, and he slipped away from her when she reached the doors. She went inside with trepidation, and even Copper looked worried as he lay down next to the door.  


She saw the Grand Cleric right away when she entered, though thankfully, no Sebastian. She wasn’t sure that she could stand up to a friend’s scrutiny at that moment.  


“My Child,” Elthina greeted her, somehow sounding both warm and reserved at the same time.  


Hawke accepted her blessing, feeling that she needed all the help she could get. Perhaps it was the worries that had plagued her earlier, but she felt the blessing sink somehow deeper than it ever had before and it lightened some of the burden on her heart.  


She smiled at the Grand Cleric. “May I ask you something, your reverence?”  


“Of course,” Elthina said, though one gray eyebrow raised just slightly.  


Hawke took a deep breath. “So...hypothetically...if there were one group of people being brutally subjugated by another...wouldn’t the Maker favor the oppressed?” It wasn’t elegant, but she was tired.  


Elthina’s expression was an understanding one. “You speak of mages. It is no secret that you are an apostate, Champion, and that you count many among your friends.” She looked booth sad and disapproving and Hawke felt herself squirming just slightly. “You have done much to fan the flames of rebellion here. We must give Meredith and Orsino time to work out their differences. No good can come of showing favor to one side.”  


_I’ve tried that,_ Hawke thought bitterly. _But things are only getting worse._  


“Couldn’t you solve this problem if you just spoke out?” she asked, feeling her patience beginning to wane.  


“How would that help?” Elthina replied. “Both sides make good points. Both have flaws. For a thousand years the chantry has had to find the balance between them. That hasn’t changed here.”  


Hawke sighed. “I guess that means you’re not ready to disband the templars and set every mage free?” she asked, even though she knew the answer. It was always the same.  


“I feel for the mages, I do,” Elthina said.  


_But not enough to do anything,_ Hawke thought.  


“I would not wish to be locked in the Gallows,” Elthina continued like that was supposed to mean something. “But I cannot take sides. We are all the Maker’s creatures. But magic allows abuses beyond the scope of mortals.”  


_At the end of the day, she agrees more with Meredith than Orsino,_ Hawke realized with a chill.  


“I only hope I can balance the needs of everyone. For if it comes to war, it is the people of this city who will lose.”  


_We agree on that, if nothing else,_ Hawke thought. She was about to respond when she caught sight of Anders approaching.  


“There you are,” he said warmly, stepping close to her side. “I have been looking for you all over.” He gave the Grand Cleric and appraising look and dipped his head just slightly. “Your Grace.”  


Elthina looked at him sadly. “Your soul is troubled child, I hope you found a balm for it here.”  


Anders gave her a tight smile and took Hawke by the elbow, leading her out of the Chantry. She could feel the hum of nervous energy through him. Not wanting to just leave him after whatever had happened, she walked him down to the clinic. The moment they stepped inside, however, she felt her heart sink.  


“Fancy meeting you here,” Varric said, rising from a stool near the door where he had been trailing a string for a trio of kittens.  


_Shit,_ Hawke thought, realizing for the first time just how long she had been gone.  


Varric gave Copper a look and the Mabari whined and hung his head. “I trusted you,” he said.  


Copper padded over to him and rolled on his back with an apologetic whimper, but Varric just shook his head.  


“Varric!” Anders said. “I have something for you!”  


Hawke saw Varric take a deep breath that she knew was intended to keep his temper in check before he turned to Anders.  


Anders hurried back into his quarters and returned with a little embroidered pillow. “I wanted you to have this,” he said, holding it out to Varric.  


“A...pillow?” Varric asked.  


“Hand embroidered by my mother,” Anders explained. “The only thing of hers they let me keep when I went to the circle.”  


“Why, in the name of Andraste, would you give that to me?” Varric asked, taking a tiny step back.  


“You’ve been a good friend, Varric,” Anders said with a sad smile.  


“Un-uh,” Varric said, shaking his head and holding up his hands. “You keep your pillow, Blondie, and may you have many more dreams of killing Templars on it.” He turned away from Anders abruptly and whistled to Copper, who leapt to his feet and hurried to his side. “Say whatever you need to say,” he said to Hawke, not meeting her eyes. “I’ll be waiting outside.”  


Hawke forced herself to nod, hating how rigid his jaw was as he stumped away. She turned to Anders with a sigh.  


“Good luck,” Anders said with an understanding smile, sounding more like himself than he had all day. “Let me just take this time to tell you how much I respect you.” He took her hands and squeezed them. “You have stood by me, when I gave you every reason to turn away. Just remember, whatever happens, I wanted you to know that.”  


The hair on the back of Hawke’s neck stood up. “Why are you talking like this?” she asked.  


“He’ll still be here you know,” Ander said softly. “Justice -- Long after you and I are gone. It doesn’t mean the same thing to a spirit. He’ll just go back to the Fade.”  


Hawke pulled him in for a hug, squeezing him tightly. “You’ve been a good friend,” she said softly, wanting him to know how much she valued him. With things escalating as they had been between mages and Templars, hell, knowing there were two templars after her...every goodbye lately had really felt like goodbye.  


“No,” Anders said, squeezing her back. “I haven’t. And I’m sorry. I was hoping we’d find a better way, but Justice and Vengeance are too intertwined. I can’t tell one from the other.” He kissed her cheek and pulled back, looking into her eyes. “You’ve been a better friend than I ever thought to have.”  


They stayed that way for a moment before he took another step back and reached down to scruff the back and white kitten who had been attacking the bottom of his robe. “I should let you go,” he said quietly. “Varric is waiting. Be well, Saoirse. And thank you.”  


“You too, Anders,” Hawke said. She turned away with a sigh and trudged to the clinic doors. More than anything she wanted to sleep, but given the expression that had been on Varric’s face, she knew she was a long way from getting to rest. It was shaping up to be a long day indeed.  


But much to her surprise, Varric was silent as they made their way back through the cellar and into the house. She had expected him to lit into her right away, but he ignored her, apart from chivvying her through the dark, dusty rooms.  


“Varric?”  


He continued to ignore her as he unlocked the door to her estate. Inside she heard Orana’s voice.  


“Mistress? Is that you?” the young woman hurried over to the basement where she swept Hawke up into a tight hug. “Oh thank goodness,” she said. “We were so worried! Master Fenris left a little while ago to go and look for you again!” She glanced at Varric.  


Hawke felt her stomach sink and caught the flicker of satisfaction on Varric’s face. She closed her eyes and hugged Orana back. “I’m all right,” she reassured her. She stepped back and tried to smile at her faithful servant. “Thank you, Orana,” Hawke said, doing her best to smile even though she wanted to break down. She didn’t deserve this kind of devotion from anyone.  


“Of course, Mistress,” Orana said, giving her another hug. “I drew a bath for you,” she said, her eyes once more flickering towards Varric. “I thought you might need one before…” she trailed off and Hawke caught the rise of Varric’s eyebrow and felt a surge of intense affection for the elf woman. Orana had learned to read them all so well, and Hawke knew that she was giving both Hawke and Varric a chance to calm down before they spoke. Orana dipped into a little curtsy before hurrying off in the direction of the kitchens.  


“Go take your bath,” Varric said, still not looking at her. “I’ll be in your room. I assume I can trust you not to run off again?”  


She swallowed the angry retort on the tip of her tongue and nodded. He turned away from her and stalked off towards her room, his footsteps thudding up the stairs. Hawke sighed and headed down to the bathing chamber. She let the door shut softly behind herself and sank down to the floor, leaning against it.  


_What does magic touch that it does not spoil?_  


Fenris’ words came back to her, as they often did when she was feeling shitty about herself, and she buried her face in her hands.  


Maybe it would have been better if she had been an abomination. She could have ended her life and stopped hurting the people she loved the most. She gave a little shake of her head. It was bad enough that she’d attracted the attention of Rage. She did not need to give Despair a reason to come courting as well.  


She forced herself to stand and shuck her disgusting clothes, which she threw into the char-bin. They were stained with Maker knew what after her excursion. She was just glad that she’d thought to change out of Varric’s old shirt before she’d left. It was precious to her and she would have been at loathe to throw it away. She went to the ewer and basin and warmed them with her magic, scrubbing and sluicing herself down over the grate in the floor to remove the most offensive of the grime before climbing into the tub. She used the juniper soap that Fenris loved so much, trying to feel comforted by its fresh, somewhat astringent smell. But she mostly just felt exhausted.  


And empty.  


She _hated_ Varric being angry with her. There was no way she could relax at all until they talked things out. She had to make him understand why she had done what she did.  


She scrubbed herself until her skin was rosey and then climbed out of the tub, wrapping herself in a thick towel and letting the water out of the tub before padding silently up to her room.  


Varric didn’t even look up from his parchment when she walked in, and he kept his back turned while she changed into clean underthings, a soft gray shirt, and simple black wool pants.  


She sat down on her bed and waited, too tired to bait him, and for a long time the room was silent apart from the scratching of his quill. Finally, after what felt like an age, he set the quill down and rested both of his hands flat on the surface of her desk.  


When he spoke, it was in a soft voice that shook. “Saoirse...after your little...encounter with that Templar, how do you think it felt to come up here this morning and find you gone?”  


“In my defense, I wasn’t planning on you finding out I was gone,” she said and then immediately regretted it when Varric lurched up from the chair, whirling around to look at her.  


“Not right now, Saoirse,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare.”  


She flinched.  


“I thought there weren’t secrets between us,” Varric continued. “That’s what we’ve always said, anyway. But you crept out of here like a damn thief. For what?”  


“I was scared!” she said desperately. “I needed to see Anders and I-I didn’t want...I was scared to-”  


“To what, Saoirse, to talk to us?” He closed the distance between them and to her horror there were tears in his eyes. “To talk to _me_?” he said softly in a voice that broke her heart.  


“Varric-”  


“Don’t ‘Varric’ me,” he said, his voice horribly cold.  


“I had to know if I was an abomination!” Hawke said, desperate to make him understand why she couldn’t have him near her.  


He blinked, and then his eyes narrowed. “Are you?”  


She shook her head.  


“Good. You’re heartbreaking enough as it is.” His words hit her like blows, stealing her breath and she saw his adam’s apple work. “And if you had been?” he asked, his voice deathly quiet.  


She forced herself to meet his eyes, normally so warm, but in that moment they looked like two little chips of flint. “I would have asked Anders to kill me,” she whispered. “I know he would have. He doesn’t want anyone to go through what he is.”  


“And does he know that he was supposed to be your executioner?” Varric asked.  


She shook her head.  


“And if he hadn’t been willing?” Varric pressed. “If he’d had the sense the Maker gave him and come to find me?”  


“I would have been dead before you could come,” she said immediately and hated the way he flinched. “There are a lot of ways to die in Kirkwall,” she said, echoing her dark thoughts from earlier. “I wouldn’t have let you-”  


“After everything we’ve been through, Saoirse?” he asked in a broken, bitter voice. “You didn’t trust-”  


“It wasn’t about trust!” Hawke said, staggering to her feet and taking a step towards him. He backed away from her, pain etched into his features. “If I had been...had been an abomination...I know you would have killed me if I asked you to, Varric! But I-I also know it would have broken you. You never would have forgiven yourself and I-I couldn’t-” She swallowed the hysterical sobs that threatened to bubble out. “It would have been better-”  


“Better,” Varric said and Hawke felt her heart sink somehow even further. His tone told her that she’d chosen the absolute worst thing she could have said.  


“Varric-”  


“I see,” he said softly. “I would have been _better_ getting your body from Anders before I even knew what was wrong.” He took a step towards her, his voice rough with sorrow as the tears streamed down his face. “I would have been _better_ never getting a chance to say goodbye to you?”  


“Varric-”  


“I would have been _better_ arranging the funeral of the Champion of Kirkwall? Writing the words to go on your tomb? Dismissing your servants, closing your house, making Fenris take the money that you left him, writing-writing…” he trailed off with a choked sob. “Damn it, Saoirse!”  


“Varric-”  


“Go to bed, Saoirse,” he said, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I need to sleep before I say something to you that I can’t take back.” He turned and trudged towards the door.  


“Varric!” Hawke said, lurching after him. “Please say ‘Goodnight Sweetheart,’ like you always do! Please-”  


He froze with his hand on the doorknob and when he spoke, his voice was bitter. “You asked me not to call you that,” he said, before stepping out and jerking the door shut behind himself.  


Hawke crumpled to the floor, tears streaming down her face. She may as well have been an abomination. Maker knew she felt like one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bit with Anders and his potion always bothered me, because he was being so obviously shifty and manipulative. I had a hard time imagining Hawke falling for any of it. But I thought that if she was preoccupied with her own worries about being an abomination, she would have gone along with his plan in the hopes that she could be cured as well. Then, once the truth comes out, I have no trouble thinking Anders would leverage their friendship and her gratitude at him telling her she wasn't an abomination to get her help. I hope the chapters are flowing better now! Thanks for reading!


	36. Finding Nathaniel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once things are resolved between Hawke and Varric, an expedition is mounted into the Deep Roads to look for Nathaniel Howe. An unexpected, but much-welcomed reunion occurs.

“That isn’t for me to say, Fenris,” Anders said cooly.  


Fenris’ frantic search for Hawke had taken him all around Kirkwall, ending here at Anders’ clinic. Anders had been forthcoming enough about the fact that Hawke had been to see him, but he’d balked at Fenris’ questions as to why. He resisted the urge to drag the answers from the mage, instead nodding tersely and making for the hidden entrance to the Hawke estate. He quickly climbed the stairs, impatiently brushing the cobwebs from his hair as he shouldered open the heavy door into the main part of the Estate and almost slammed into Varric, who was thundering down the stairs, his face a mask of anger and hurt.  


“Varric?”  


“You talk to her!” Varric growled, not looking at him. “I need a drink.”  


Then he stumped off, his head bowed. Fenris winced when the door to the Estate slammed shut. Well, shit.  


Fenris hurried up to Hawke’s room and gently knocked on the door.  


“Varric?” The hope in Hawke’s voice broke his heart.  


“It’s me, Hawke,” he said gently. “Can I come in?”  


He swore could hear her shrugging. “If you want,” she said dully.  


He opened the door and stepped inside and saw, to his dismay, that Hawke was sitting in the middle of the floor as though she had collapsed mid-step. He hurried over and sat down next to her.  


“Is Varric here?” she asked softly.  


Fenris shook his head. “I am sorry, Hawke,” he said gently. “He seemed _angrier than I can recall seeing him_ upset. Can I ask what happened?” Fenris asked, reaching out to take her hand. “Anders said that you came to see him, though he would not say why.”  


Hawke was silent for a long moment before she took a deep breath. “I was afraid I was an abomination,” Hawke said, assiduously avoiding looking at him.  


Fenris took great pains to make sure that he kept his voice even. “All right,” he said softly. _I would know_ , he thought to himself. _I am sure I would._  


"I'm not," she said. “Not as far as Anders can tell, anyway.”  


“I am sure you are relieved,” Fenris said, shoving down his sadness that she hadn't told him what was wrong. She hadn't told Varric either. _I know that I am._  


Hawke sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Fenris.”  


Fenris put his arms around her, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry that you did not feel you could,” he said. Though I can hardly blame you. “I am just thankful that you are all right.”  


He felt her nod, but she let out a little sniffle. He reached down and tilted her chin up, his heart aching at the pain in her eyes. “You’re not all right,” he said quietly.  


Her eyes filled with tears and she gave a tiny shake of her head. “Varric is so angry at me,” she whispered.  


Fenris sighed and pulled her against himself. “He will come around,” he said. He hated seeing the two people he loved the most uneasy with each other, but he didn’t want her to know how deeply it was affecting him. It wasn’t about him. “He is unaccustomed to not being your go-to person,” he said. “It scared him that you would consider taking such steps without him.”  


“I couldn’t do that to him,” she said immediately and he hugged her. “I know that he would do anything for me but I...for all that he says, I know that it would have killed him.” She glanced up at Fenris and he saw the pain in her eyes. “And I couldn’t ask you either,” she said. “Not because I don’t think you would have, because I think you would. But because Varric would never forgive you for it. And then you’d have lost both of us.”  


“Kadan,” he whispered, feeling an ache in his heart as he leaned down to kiss her. He couldn’t say that she was wrong. He felt her little body sag against him and he caught her. “You need to rest,” he said. “Varric will forgive you,” he said, leading her up to her room. _I just don’t know how long it will take._  


As it took out, it took longer than he expected. Varric didn’t come around the Hawke estate for a week, and didn’t answer any of the notes that Hawke sent down. Fenris could see the toll it was taking on her and ached to fix things. Having the two people he loved best in the world ill at ease with each other made his stomach hurt.  


“Let’s go for a walk,” he blurted out one particularly fine, cool afternoon.  


Hawke looked up at him from yet another letter to Varric and hesitated.  


“It would be good for you,” Fenris said firmly. “You need to get out of the house.”  


Hawke sighed and pushed away from her desk. “All right,” she said dully. “Let me get my cloak.”  


Fenris picked up his own cloak and walked with Hawke down the stairs. She made sure to tell Orana that they were going out, and gave Copper a fond pat on the head. Together they stepped into the late afternoon sunshine and out of the corner of his eye, Fenris saw Hawke take a deep breath. He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her against himself as he saw a tiny fraction of the tension leave her shoulders.  


“This was a good idea,” she said with a small, sad smile.  


“I am pleased you think so,” Fenris said, leaning down and kissing her cheek. Together they strolled through the markets, remarking to each other here and there when a particular item caught their attention. Fenris had just offered to buy Hawke a hand pie for luncheon when they both jumped at a woman’s voice calling Hawke’s name.  


“Mistress Hawke!” The woman was a well-dressed brunette, her handsome face lined with worry. “Mistress Hawke! I must speak with you. You’re the only one who can help!”  


Fenris suppressed a sigh. This was always how it started.  


The woman introduced herself as Delilah Howe and then pressed on with her explanation, despite the somewhat skeptical look on Hawke’s face. “The Wardens mounted an expedition to retrace your route through the Deep Roads to discover whatever it is you found years ago. It’s a fool’s errand and my poor brother is with them -- Nathaniel Howe.”

“Why were Wardens interested in our expedition?” Hawke asked, raising an eyebrow. She sounded suspicious, which made Fenris feel a little better. Sometimes her desire to help got ahead of her caution. But the woman didn’t have a good answer, claiming that her brother rarely shared Warden business with her.  


Hawke gave her a skeptical look. “Wardens range into the Deep Roads all the time,” she said and Fenris caught the slight catch in her voice. He reached out and took her hand, knowing that she was thinking of Carver. It had been many months since his last letter.  


“But he’s been gone far too long!” the woman pressed, sounding desperate. “Something terrible has happened. I’d tell the Wardens, but by the time I reach Vigil’s Keep -- My poor brother.”  


Hawke sighed and in that moment, Fenris knew that they were going to the Deep Roads. “Do you know any other details?” Hawke asked.  


Delilah shook her head. “I know almost nothing. Nathaniel never speaks about the Wardens. It was only happenstance that I heard your name mentioned. Please go back to the Deep Roads. Find my brother. You must!”  


Hawke was quiet as they walked away from Delilah and Fenris let go of her hand to put his arm back around her waist. “Are you all right?” he asked.  


“Delilah isn't’ the only one worried about her brother,” Hawke said softly.  


“I know,” Fenris said, squeezing her gently. “But Carver is strong, Hawke. I am sure that he is well. Just busy.”  


“I hope so,” Hawke said, running a hand through her hair. She winced. “I need to talk to Varric,” she said with determination. “I can’t imagine doing this without him.”  


“I am going with you this time,” Fenris said in a tone that he hoped brooked no argument.  


“Are you now?” Hawke asked, her full lips curling into a smile.  


Fenris tightened his hand on her waist, pulling her a little more firmly against his side. “I am afraid that you have no choice,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear and earning him a shiver.  


Hawke giggled and turned her head, catching his lips with hers. “If you insist,” she said, smiling up into his eyes. It was the first real smile she’d seen in a week and he felt a weight lift from his chest.  


“I do,” he replied. “I am not letting you go without me again.”  


“I should have listened to you last time,” Hawke said, her smile fading. “Maybe then Carver-”  


“You cannot know that,” Fenris said, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “But I will be there this time.”  


“Thank you,” Hawke replied, sliding her arm around his waist. They stood that way for a moment before Hawke pulled back and looked up at him. “I want to bring Aveline along too,” she said. “Could you go talk to her? Float the idea?”  


Fenris raised an eyebrow. “So that you can talk to Varric?”  


Hawke sighed and nodded. “I think it’d be better if I went alone,” she said softly.  


Fenris nodded, knowing that she was correct. He wanted to be with her, to lend her his support during what he was sure was going to be a trying conversation, but he knew that wasn’t what she needed.  


“I shall go to the barracks,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. He pulled her in for a kiss, then rested his forehead against hers. “Good luck with Varric,” he said softly.  


“Thanks, love,” she replied. She kissed him once more on the cheek before turning and heading down the stairs to Lowtown.  


Fenris turned and began to make his way up to the barracks, his heart lighter than it had been in a week. Maybe now things could return to normal.

####

Varric stared at the pages in front of himself, scarcely seeing them. He was supposed to be editing. His publisher had been rather...insistant lately that Varric finish the next installation of Hard in Hightown. But since his fight with Hawke, he had been having a hell of a time concentrating. He glanced at the stack of unopened notes that had been piling up. Hawke sent a new one every day and he hadn’t read a single one. He knew that all it would take was seeing her guilt laid out on the page for him to be making his way up to her estate and folding her into his arms.  


He was still angry, damn it!  


There was a tentative knock on the door and Varric sighed.  


“Come in,” he grumbled, throwing down his quill with frustration and taking a sip of wine. The door swung open and Varric choked on the mouthful of very nice Antivan white.  


Hawke.  


“Hi Varric,” Hawke said. “I…was hoping that we could talk?”  


Varric saw her eyes flicker to the pile of notes on his desk and narrow.  


“You didn’t even read them,” she said. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, but to his horror Varric saw the tears in her eyes.  


“Shit,” Varric said, pushing back from the desk. “Hawke-”  


“I tried to apologize,” Hawke gritted out, taking a step back.  


Varric felt his own temper rising. “Well, maybe I wasn’t ready to forgive you yet!”  


“Fine,” Hawke said, her shoulders dropping. “I’m sorry to bother you.”  


She turned to leave and Varric caught her by the wrist. “Hawke, wait.”  


“Why?” she asked, not looking at him.  


“Because we need to talk,” Varric said with a sigh. He had an awful suspicion that if he let her leave just then it would create a permanent rift between the two of them. Friends fought. It happened. But friends worked through it. And she was the best friend he had. The best friend he’d _ever_ had. Regardless of the number of gray hairs she was giving him.  


“Now?” Hawke asked.  


“Now,” Varric said.  


Hawke pulled her wrist away and took a deep breath before stomping over and pouring herself a glass of wine. She flopped down into his chair and gave him a defiant look as he shut the door. He turned his desk chair so that he was facing her and sat down. They were silent for a few awkward moments before Hawke took a deep breath.  


“Varric?”  


He looked up and met her eyes. “Saoirse.”  


She flinched, but pressed on. “I’m sorry that I didn’t come to you with my fears,” she said quietly. “Truly. I know that I scared you by disappearing like I did.”  


Varric opened his mouth to respond but Hawke held up a hand.  


“I know that the bigger issue is the...choice that I was going to make without you,” she said and it was clear that the words cost her something. “That I would have asked Anders to-”  


“You don’t need to say it,” Varric cut her off, unable to hear the words again. “But you’re right, that’s why I left that night. It hurt me that you would do something so...final without even talking to me.”  


She nodded.  


“I notice you aren’t apologizing for that part,” Varric growled.  


Hawke sighed and shook her head. “Varric, I won’t apologize for something I’m not sorry for. It would have been the right choice.” Her golden eyes narrowed and pinned him in place. “And before you start in on me again, I know beyond the shadow of any doubt that you would have struck the final blow if I asked you to.” She set her wine down and rose, crossing to him and dropping to her knees in front of him. She reached for his hands and he put down his own drink and took them, running his thumbs over the backs of her hands. “I could never doubt you, Varric. I could never doubt the depth of your friendship or loyalty. But has it ever occurred to your big, stubborn brain, that I want to protect you as much as you want to protect me?”  


He felt a lump in his throat as he looked down into her wide, earnest eyes. “Hawke-”  


“It would have broken you,” she said, squeezing his hands. “You’d never have forgiven yourself. And Fenris never would have forgiven you for it either.” Her eyes narrowed. “Just like you’d never have forgiven him if I’d asked him to stop my heart. If I die...the two of you need each other. You’d have lost both of us.”  


“But Blondie-”  


“That’s not the same, and you know it,” Hawke said sadly. “Especially these days. But Fenris is your closest friend apart from me.”  


Varric sighed, unable to argue. “I still would rather at least know,” he said firmly. He shook his head when she went to retort. “Listen to me, Hawke. I can’t pretend there isn’t truth to what you’re saying. But I would still rather know. The thought of you so desperate and scared is bad enough, without adding you being alone on top of it. At least give me a chance to be with you, if it ever came to that.”  


“You’d just try to talk me out of it,” she said, but Varric thought he saw the ghost of a smile.  


“Promise me, Hawke,” Varric said firmly.  


She sighed and nodded, but Varric shook his head. “I need you to say it,” he said.  


“I promise not to do anything drastic without running it by you,” Hawke said, her lips curling into a wry smile. “Is that better? You’re annoyingly persistent.”  


Varric rose quickly and pulled her in for a hug. “Damn right,” he grumbled against her chest as she hugged him back. “You scared me, Saoirse,” he said.  


“I know,” she replied. “I’m sorry.” He felt her lips on his forehead and he shut his eyes, forcing back the dark thoughts. He knew that this was as much of a concession as he’d get from her in that moment. “I love you, Varric,” she said and he tightened his arms around her waist.  


“I love you too,” he said. They were quiet for a few moments before Hawke spoke.  


“How much do you love me?” she asked and Varric groaned.  


“What do you want?” he asked, taking a step back and giving her a mock-stern look.  


She took a deep breath and then launched into an explanation about a Gray Warden named Nathaniel Howe who had vanished into the Deep Roads.  


“I know where this is going,” Varric said with a sigh. “Let me guess. The sister wants us to go looking for him.”  


Hawke grinned ruefully and nodded. “‘Fraid so,” she said.  


“And you said that you would and thought that, what, I might like a nice trip as well?”  


“Something like that,” Hawke said. Her expression turned serious. “I know that you hate the Deep Roads, Varric. And I don’t blame you. I just...would feel safer if you were with me.”  


“Laying it on a bit thick there, Saoirse,” Varric grumbled and caught the flicker of a smile on her lips. “Who else are you proposing bringing on this ill-fated trip?”  


“Fenris and Aveline,” Hawke replied and Varric grunted.  


“Is that a yes?” Hawke asked.  


“You know that it is,” Varric said with resignation. It wasn’t as though he was going to let her go without him. Especially after all that had happened. “I’ve got my packing list from the last time around here somewhere.” He turned to his desk and began rummaging through drawers, only to find himself caught in a hug from behind.  


“I can always count on you,” Hawke said, resting her chin on top of his head. “I don’t deserve you, Varric Tethras.”  


Varric swallowed hard and shook his head. “Stop that,” he grumbled.  


“Never,” Hawke teased gently and Varric had to chuckle.  


“Go help the broody elf pack,” Varric said, gently extricating himself. “I should have everything together in about three days.”  


“Are you sure that-”  


“I said I was going, Hawke,” Varric said firmly.  


“Ok,” she said and he could see the relief plain as day on her face. “You’re sure that we’re ok?”  


He nodded and saw her swallow. “I’m going to head home,” she said. “Will you...will you say the thing?”  


Varric felt something shift inside him, like the last moment when a cut healed over during a Healing. “That you’re lucky to have such a resourceful, handsome, dwarf sidekick?”  


“Well that’s a given,” Hawke said, grinning at him. “But not quite what I meant.”  


Varric chuckled and smiled warmly at her. “Goodnight, Sweetheart,” he said softly. He saw her eyes grow shiny and her smile quivered just slightly.  


“Goodnight, Sweetheart,” she replied a little hoarsely before catching him a tight hug. Then she was gone, leaving his room smelling vaguely of clary sage.  


Varric shook his head as he plopped down in his chair and resumed his rummaging. That woman was going to be the death of him.

####

Fenris frowned at the entrance of the cave, trying and failing to see what marked it as an entrance to the Deep Roads. To him it looked like every other cave they had ever traversed, but Hawke and Varric were eyeing this one with distinct trepidation.  


“I really would have been perfectly happy never seeing this place again,” Varric grumbled, hiking his pack up higher on his shoulders.  


Hawke nodded.  


“This doesn’t look like...anything,” Aveline said, echoing Fenris’ thoughts. She’d been surprisingly keen on joining them, though Fenris suspected it had something to do with keeping Hawke and Varric out of trouble.  


“That’s intentional,” Varric said with a sigh. “Dwarves don’t really want surfacers poking around the Deep Roads. The real entrance is about an hours trek inside the cave. Past the spiders.”  


“Always the fucking spiders,” Hawke said. She glanced up at the sky, closing her eyes as the late afternoon sun illuminated her face. She looked so lovely, and had they been alone, Fenris would have kissed her. Instead he watched as her eyes snapped open and she squared her shoulders.  


“Right,” she said. “No use stalling. Let’s go find us a Warden.” With that she strode into the cave entrance, immediately swearing as she took a spiderweb to the face.  


“Well this is an auspicious start,” she muttered, brushing herself down.  


Fenris had to chuckle and took a step forward to tenderly pull a strand of spiderweb from her hair.  


“Thanks,” she said, giving him a tight smile.  


Fenris nodded and followed as she led the way into the cave.  


Varric had been correct. There were indeed many large spiders, but the four of them were like a well-oiled mechanism and made quick work of the massive arachnids. By the time they reached the distinctly dwarven looking door, they were all warmed up.  


Varric produced a key from one of his many pockets and inserted it into the carefully hidden keyhole. It turned with an alarmingly loud rumble before the door swung open, bringing with it the scent of damp stone and something musky and unpleasant.  


“Darkspawn,” Hawke and Varric said together.  


Hawke tightened her grip on her staff. “Last chance for any of you to turn around,” she said.  


“We’re with you, Hawke,” Aveline said, glancing at Fenris and Varric. The three of them nodded and Hawke smiled warmly at them.  


“What would I do without you?” she said.  


“Probably get eaten by a spider,” Fenris remarked.  


“ _Definitely_ get eaten by a spider,” Varric agreed and Fenris could hear the edge of nervousness in his voice.  


“Make an inappropriate joke about the spider’s parentage and _then_ get eaten,” Aveline said.  


The look Hawke gave them all was a wounded one. “I am unappreciated in my time,” she said archly. But the joking had worked and some of the tension that had been slowly winding up as they made their way to the entrance dissipated. “Let’s go,” Hawke said. “Be on your guard, watch each other’s backs, and if it’s red, don’t touch it.”  


Fenris squared her shoulders and without a backwards glance, followed Hawke down into the deep roads.  


He had to admit, after a few hours of trekking, he was beginning to understand Varric’s constant stream of complaints. The Deep Roads were dark, and humid, and stank of darkspawn, and while there were the occasional stunning pieces of ancient dwarven architecture, it wasn’t exactly worth the constant attacks by Deepstalkers, spiders, and wave upon wave of darkspawn.  


Fenris gritted his teeth as he lopped the head from a Hurlock and watched it roll away. It had only been about a day, it was hard to know the passage of time for sure, but things were already looking grim. They had found a lot of darkspawn bodies, as well as the bodies of several wardens. There was treasure too, there was always treasure, but Hawke barely glanced at it.  


“This is looking bad, Hawke,” Varric said quietly as he turned over the body of a warden. The man’s face was frozen in a rictus of fear.  


“I know,” Hawke said equally quietly. There was something about the oppressive environment of the Deep Roads that made you want to speak quietly.  


“We should keep moving,” Fenris said, glancing around. “I do not like how vulnerable we are here.” He realized that there was something else, something that was building the deeper they went underground. It had started as a feeling almost akin to gooseflesh that put the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck up. But now...now it almost felt like a constant hum in the back of his mind and through his body.  


Hawke nodded and rose from where she was crouching next to the body of another warden. Together they moved through a couple chambers of varying sizes until Hawke held up her hand. “Do you hear that?” she asked, cocking her head.  


Fenris nodded immediately, unsheathing his greatsword. “Fighting,” he said.  


“Everyone be ready,” Hawke said.  


Together they hurried through a passageway that abruptly opened up into a large, open cavern. Massive stalactites hung from the cavern ceiling so far above them that it was obscured in darkness. 

The walls were lined with massive, treetrunk like veins of pure lyrium that glowed blue and Fenris realized that he could feel the lyrium in his tattoos responding with a dull vibration that almost made him feel...itchy. That was what he had been feeling as they had pressed deeper underground. His heart pounded in his chest, and the beating echoed in his tattoos, deep and powerful. He felt curiously alive. Shaking himself out of his reverie, Fenris noticed a hurlock advancing on a lone archer with long, dark hair. As they watched, the man dispatched the darkspawn with an expert shot and lowered his bow, panting.  


“Nathaniel Howe?” Hawke said, approaching the man with her staff ready.  


He turned to face them, a warm smile on his handsome face. “You’re the Champion of Kirkwall, aren’t you?”  


Hawke inclined her head, not looking surprised in the least that Nathaniel knew who she was. “Delilah says you followed my expedition’s route. Why?”  


Nathaniel’s expression instantly grew guarded. “You went further into the Deep Roads than anyone believed possible. The First Warden himself ordered this investigation. I was offered a generous share of the salvage, plus extra coin upfront to discourage any...curiosity.”  


Hawke rested the end of her staff on the ground and put her free hand on her hip. “I don’t remember drawing anyone a map to the Thaig. Who told you about it?”  


“An unfortunate dwarf named Bartrand,” Nathaniel replied. “We weren’t sure his information was reliable, but contacting you or Varric was deemed risky.”  


Varric let out a disgruntled snort. “You trusted my turncoat of a brother, but talking to us was risky? That’s idiotic!” Hawke placed a hand on his shoulder, but from her raised eyebrow Fenris could see that she agreed with Varric.  


Nathaniel shrugged. “We feared you might return if you learned of our interest in the thaig.”  


Hawke looked around at the bodies that littered the cavern floor. “It looks like you met heavy resistance.”  


“After the Warden Commander killed the Architect, we thought it would be decades before the Deep Roads would be infested again. The Warden’s allies assured us that these tunnels would still be mostly clear. But it seems they were wrong.”  


Hawke cocked her head like Copper when he caught a new scent. “Who is the Architect?”  


“The Architect is the first of the speaking and thinking Darkspawn,” Nathaniel said and Fenris suppressed a shiver. Darkspawn were dangerous enough when they were mindless. Thinking and speaking ones sounded horrifying. “Very dangerous. He spread his...gift to other Darkspawn. The Disciples. Fortunately, their numbers are few.”  


Hawke gave Nathaniel a tight smile and glanced back the way they had come. “As much as I enjoy the company, is there anything keeping us in these Darkspawn infested tunnels?”  


Nathaniel’s eyes widened and he shook his head.“I cannot leave now. When we were attacked, we were separated from the rest of my expedition. Some of them may yet live. We must go deeper into the tunnels to rescue them.”  


“Who else could be alive?” Hawke asked and Fenris heard Varric give a theatrical sigh. It seemed they weren’t done in the Deep Roads yet.  


“Some Wardens survived the initial ambush. I think the dwarf we brought from Vigil’s Keep survived...but who still lives? Only the Maker knows.”  


Hawke squared her shoulders with a nod. “We have survivors to find. Let’s go.”  


Aveline shook her head, following Hawke despite her clear disapproval. “Protecting the foolish from themselves.”  


Fenris had to agree.  


“We should move,” Nathaniel said. “Stay alert for Darkspawn.”  


As if there was any other choice, Fenris soon discovered. The further they pressed into the Deep Roads, the more numerous the darkspawn became. The strange surge of energy through his tattoos continued as well, growing more powerful every time they came upon another treetrunk-like vein of lyrium. Sometimes it almost felt as though his heartbeats were echoed by another, but he shook off the thought with a frown. They had enough to worry about. His tattoos were made of lyrium and they were reacting to its presence. That was all.  


He wasn’t the only one growing agitated, either. He was beginning to sense a frantic worry in Nathaniel when they entered another larger chamber. A dwarf stood near what was clearly an explosives barrel and his eyes widened when he saw Nathaniel. Fenris listened as the dwarf explained that they were using the explosives to excavate and Nathaniel directed him to get himself to the surface. Not a moment too soon, either, for they heard a roar in the distance and then felt the ground rumble with thunderous footsteps. An ogre burst into the chamber accompanied by other darkspawn and Fenris saw Hawke’s jaw clench. He knew that it had been an ogre that had killed Hawke’s sister Bethany, and she’d harbored an intense hatred for the creatures ever since.  


She launched into an attack right away, brutally raining fire down on the ogre and circling to stay out of its grasp. “Towards the explosives!” she ordered, jerking her chin towards a narrow passageway. Their group bolted through it, with Nathaniel at the front and Hawke bringing up the rear. She set off the charges left by the dwarf and as they watched the ogre bear down on them, Fenris caught the smell of sulfur before there was a thunderous explosion. He shielded his face from the stone that rained down and found himself coughing at all the dust. When he looked again the passage was closed and he saw the ogre’s head sticking out of the rubble. The thing was clearly dead and Hawke, panting, gave a satisfied little smile.  


“That was for Bethany you son of a bitch,” she growled. Fenris reached out and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, and was heartened when she squeezed back.  


“And Wesley,” Aveline said quietly, coming to stand by Hawke.  


Hawke put her arm around Aveline’s waist and leaned against the taller woman for a moment. Aveline rested her head on top of Hawke’s for a heartbeat before the two of them pulled away.  


“Let’s go,” Hawke said grimly, motioning for Nathaniel to lead them on. They followed the warden down into a large, open chamber with many intricately carved columns and a smooth red stone floor. 

Fenris was looking around, stunned at the sheer size of the place when he heard Hawke gasp and saw her bolt out of the corner of his eye. He glanced over, surprised, and saw her bearing down on a man standing over the corpse of a genlock, his shoulders heaving.  


“Carver?” Her voice was filled with a heartbreaking mix of relief, fear, and affection. “Carver!” She ran into him almost at a sprint, very nearly knocking her little brother over with the force of her embrace. He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her as they regained their balance. They held the embrace for a long few moments before Hawke stepped back, sniffling. She smiled up at Carver and Fenris grinned at the young man when he looked over in their direction. The Wardens had been good for Carver. His shoulders had filled out with muscle and he’d lost the tight wariness that always kept the corners of his mouth pointed downwards.  


“Well...just like old times,” Carver said warmly. “You’re coming to the rescue after all these years.” He gave a nonchalant shrug that was belied by how hard he was still breathing. “I have it under control, but thanks.”  


Nathaniel strode up to the pair of them, his brow furrowed. “You know each other?”  


Carver glanced over at Hawke and Fenris caught the pride in his voice when he answered. “She is my sister.”  


Hawke grinned up at Carver, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you have Archdemons to hunt, or something?”  


Carver gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes and it was as though they were back in the Hanged Man listening to the Hawke siblings bicker over terrible Fereldan ale. “There’s a considerable gap between Blights, you know,” Carver said archly. His voice turned abruptly serious and a little wistful. “But apparently just long enough for people to forget. We Wardens don’t have that luxury though.”  


Fenris was about to ask after the young man when suddenly Nathaniel stiffened.  


“We don’t have time for this!” the Gray Warden said, his eyes going wide. “The Darkspawn approach!”  


The battle that followed was an ugly one, as they often were. Nathaniel and Carver did the best to lure the ogres towards them, and by extension, more of the explosive barrels. By the time the third barrel went off, Fenris’ ears were ringing and his throat burned with the harsh smoke. However, the strategy was an effective one, only requiring Hawke to heal their party twice before the last of the darkspawn staggered, and fell.  


Nathaniel looked around with wonder. “For the first time since I’ve been down here, I don’t sense a single Darkspawn,” he breathed. “We’ve won. The route to the surface should be safe now.” His eyes grew shiny. “Because of you, I will see my sister and nephew again.”  


Hawke grinned at him, a real grin, the one that spoke of fun and trouble and one too many ales. “All in a day’s work for the Champion of Kirkwall,” she said with an exaggerated wink at Carver, who groaned.  


“Come,” Nathaniel said. “Let us leave this wretched place.”  


Together they trooped out a different path than the one they had taken in, by unspoken agreement not stopping until they were significantly closer to the surface. Nathaniel seemed to be following his own internal compass, and it was just as well, for it led them to an abandoned Warden camp.  


“This should do for the night,” Nathaniel said, looking around. “We will have to set watches, of course.”  


“One of yours?” Hawke asked, crouching down by the fire pit and getting it going with a little flick of her fingers.  


“Before my time, I think,” Nathaniel said, bending down to look at one of the dusty bedrolls.  


“How did you know it was here?” Hawke asked, rising with a wince.  


Nathaniel shrugged. “I just had a feeling,” he said.  


She glanced towards Carver, her lips quirking into a smile. “Do you have a Warden Tingle too, brother?”  


The young man pulled a face. “Please don’t call it that,” he said plaintively.  


“A Warden…” Nathaniel trailed off, shaking his head. “Is she always like this?” he asked Carver.  


“Always,” Carver said wryly. The siblings smiled at each other and it warmed Fenris to see Hawke looking so happy. He offered to prepare their meal in order to give Hawke and Carver time to talk, but the camp was a small one and he was able to listen as they chatted.  


“How have you been, Saoirse?” Carver asked, plopping down on the bedroll next to Hawke’s. “Really.”  


“Oh, the usual,” Hawke said brightly. “Daring rescues on the high seas, marriage proposals, mad Templars, mage rabble-rousing…” she shrugged. “It’s been a busy few years.”  


Fenris felt Carver’s eyes on the back of his head. “Marriage proposals, eh?”  


Hawke chuckled. “How about you?” she asked and Fenris could hear the concern in her voice. “Are you well, Carver, truly?”  


“I am,” Carver said. “Truly. Being a Warden isn’t easy, not by any stretch of the imagination. But I’m good at it. And, well, it’s mine.”  


“I’m only sorry that you had to go so far to find a place you could feel that way,” Hawke said sadly. “I miss you, little brother.”  


“I miss you too, Saoirse,” Carver said. “I have thought often about our first few years in Kirkwall and find that I have...many regrets.” He sighed. “I often treated you badly, Sister, and for that, I am truly sorry.”  


“Don’t talk like that,” Hawke said, sounding stricken. “You sound like you’re saying goodbye.”  


“I may well be,” Carver said. “But I will do it with no regrets, now that I’ve gotten to see you.”  


“Stop it, stupidhead,” Hawke said and her voice was thick with tears.  


Fenris glanced back in time to see Carver put her arm around Hawke’s shoulders and hug her close. Both of them had tears on their cheeks as Carver rested his head on top of Hawke’s.  


“Don’t call me stupidhead, Mabari breath,” Carver teased.  


Hawke snorted and the two of them lapsed into silence for a few moments while Fenris added water to the dehydrated nug and brought it up to a boil.  


“I love you, Carver,” Hawke said.  


“I love you too, Saoirse,” Carver replied.  


They fell quiet again and after a few minutes Varric cleared his throat.  


“If we’re done being maudlin, I have a great story about three dwarves, an elf, and a litter of nugs,” Varric said.  


Hawke chuckled and wiped her eyes, sitting up.  


“Come on, Baby Hawke,” Varric said. “You used to love this one!”  


Carver grinned at him. “I was usually much drunker. The story is funnier that way.”  


Varric launched into the tale anyway, and sober though they all may have been, soon he had their little camp echoing with the sound of laughter. Hawke had begun to nod when Nathaniel let out a final chuckle and rose with a grunt.  


“We need to get some rest,” he said.  


“I’ll take first watch,” Carver said.  


“I will join him,” Fenris said.  


Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Dwarf, my lady, will you take second? The Champion and I can take third.”  


Everyone nodded and shuffled off to their respective bedrolls. Carver and Hawke embraced tightly before he gave her a playful nudge towards her bedroll. “Try not to bring this place down around us with your snoring,” he teased and Hawke stuck her tongue out at him.  


For a few minutes the camp was filled with the shuffling of folks preparing to bed down for the night. Soon, however, everyone’s exhaustion won out and the camp fell quiet apart from the crackling of Hawke’s fire.  


“So,” Carver said, coming to sit by Fenris facing the entrance into their camp. “You and my sister.”  


Fenris chuckled at the echo of the conversation they had had years ago in Vimmark. “Me and your sister,” he agreed.  


“You realize making an honest woman of her is a losing proposition,” Carver said mildly, though there was a small smile on his lips.  


Fenris grinned. “Be that as it may, I intend to try.” He inclined his head to the young man. “With your blessing, of course.”  


Carver looked startled. “Of course,” he said. “Though I can’t imagine it would stop you if I refused. I’ve seen how you two look at each other.”  


Fenris grinned at him and shrugged, earning a soft laugh from Carver.  


Carver’s expression turned wistful. “I don’t suppose you know when the wedding would be? It’d be nice to be there.”  


Fenris felt a pang of guilt, wishing for a moment that he and Hawke had set a date that he could tell Carver. “I do not,” he said and hoped that Carver could hear the apology in his voice. “I have not...officially asked her, yet. Not with a ring, as you humans do.”  


“She likes black opals,” Carver said, surprising him. “Mother had some, from when she was a girl. Saoirse got all squeaky when mother showed them to her.”  


“Squeaky?” Fenris repeated.  


Carver nodded with an exaggerated shudder. “You could hear her across the house,” he said.  


“I will remember that,” Fenris said.  


The two men were quiet for a few moments before Fenris felt Carver’s gaze on him. “Is she all right?” Carver asked softly. “Truly, Fenris. I worry about her in Kirkwall.”  


“She worries about you as well,” Fenris said. “You should write more often. Her face lights up when she gets your letters.” He sighed. “And she is well, Carver. Things in Kirkwall are...tense, and you know Hawke. She has to get involved.”  


Carver nodded. “That’s what worries me,” he said. “Though I will admit that it eases my mind somewhat to know that she has you, and Varric, and Aveline.” At the mention of the guard captain’s name, Carver made a face. “I should talk to Aveline,” he mused. “Apologize. She was right not to allow me to join the guard. The man I am now...he could have joined. But not the man I was.”  


Fenris raised an eyebrow. Carver really had grown up in the past few years. “The Wardens have changed you,” he said.  


Carver caught the expression and let out a quiet laugh. “Not entirely for the better, probably,” he said. “But yes.”  


“Your sister is proud of you,” Fenris said. “As are we all.”  


Carver gave Fenris a startled look. “Thank you, Fenris.”  


Fenris nodded and the two of them spent their watch chatting quietly about the Wardens, Kirkwall, and Mabari training. When it was time for Aveline and Varric to take over, Carver held out his hand to Fenris. “Take care of my sister,” he said seriously. “Do you promise?”  


“With every beat of my heart,” Fenris replied equally seriously.  


Carver nodded and turned away from Fenris to talk to Aveline. Fenris caught the raised eyebrow that Varric gave him and smiled at his friend before seeking his bedroll. He plopped down next to Hawke, and, comforted by the soft sound of her snores, quickly fell asleep.  


It was Hawke who woke him the next morning with a steaming cup of tea made from elfroot and willow bark meant to ease the soreness from sleeping on the ground. It warmed him through and he helped strike camp with renewed vigor. They must have been closer to the surface than he’d thought, because it was only an hour or two of trekking before they rounded a corner and saw sunlight in the distance.  


The light was blinding as they stepped out, despite it being an overcast afternoon.  


“Maker it smells so much better out here,” Aveline said, inhaling deeply. She glanced over at Hawke, raising an eyebrow. “I’d be perfectly happy never going back down there,” she said.  


Varric nodded adamantly and Hawke grinned at them both.  


“I am afraid we must take our leave,” Nathaniel said. “You four are likely headed back to Kirkwall, and we must begin to make our way back to Vigil’s Keep.” He unclasped a sword that had been fastened across his back and handed it to Hawke. “Please take this with my blessing. I apologize I couldn’t answer all of your questions, but you may have them yet in the fullness of time.”  


Hawke blinked at the gift and then smiled at him. “Stay safe, Nathaniel,” she said.  


He bowed low to her. “You, as well,” he said, rising. He glanced at Carver. “I am sure the two of you have things to say,” he said gently. “You are a young man, Carver, I’m sure you’ll catch up.” With a final nod to them, Nathaniel turned and began to walk south.  


Carver inhaled deeply and turned to the four of them. He shook Aveline and Varric’s hands before turning to Fenris with one eyebrow raised. “I’ve always wanted a brother,” he said wryly before shocking Fenris with a quick, tight hug. “Be well,” he said quietly. “And look after my sister.”  


Fenris felt his cheeks and ears go red as his throat grew curiously tight. “I shall,” he promised. “Be well, Carver.”  


Carver pulled back and turned to Hawke, his face falling. Hawke had tears streaking down her face and was making a visible effort to keep from sobbing.  


“You be _safe_ , little brother,” she gritted out. “And write to me.”  


“I will,” Carver said, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Be safe, Saoirse. Remember, you don’t always have to be the hero. You can save some heroing for the rest of us.”  


“That isn’t a word,” Hawke said with a wet little laugh.  


“Of course it is,” Carver said.  


“Stupidhead.”  


“Mabari breath.”  


Hawke pulled back with a shuddering intake of air. “I love you,” she said firmly.  


“Love you more,” Carver said with a sad smile.  


Hawke’s lips wobbled. “Just like Bethany would say,” she whispered.  


“She’s still with us, Saorise,” Carver said. “Just like mother, and father.” He clasped her shoulder. “Just like I’m with you always.” He straightened his shoulders. “All right, enough mush! Thank you for your help down there,” he said. “I promise I’ll write once we’re back at the Keep.”  


“I’ll hold you to that,” Hawke said with a smile that wavered a little.  


“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Carver said with a sad smile. He gave them all a final bow and then turned and hurried off in the direction Nathaniel had gone.  


Hawke watched him until he was out of sight, tears streaming down her face. When he finally disappeared she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Come on,” she said softly. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you all enjoyed our sojourn into the Deep Roads! My Hawke actually got along really well with Carver (something I had to put concerted effort into this playthrough--goodness is that boy difficult), so it was nice to write a reunion for the two of them. I also always felt that Fenris probably got along better with Carver than most of the Kirkwall crew, largely by virtue of being a somewhat prickly person himself, so it was fun to write them interacting with each other.
> 
> Thank you guys for your patience this last week, and I hope all the edits make sense/sit well with everyone. I am posting this chapter today because I have a series of doctor's appointments tomorrow that will likely interfere with my ability to post. Next chapter should go up on 8/31 and hopefully we'll be back on track!
> 
> Next chapter has Meredith summoning Hawke to hunt down some rogue mages. Whilst in the Templar Hall, Hawke sees a familiar face.
> 
> Be safe and well, everyone! <3


	37. The Pendulum Always Swings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter spans a couple of quests as Hawke struggles with the escalating tensions between Mages and Templars and what her place in the conflict is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This skims several quests as I have chosen to keep this section from Fenris' perspective and Hawke doesn't bring him along for these ones. I wanted this to be more focused on how Fenris sees Hawke beginning to unravel as tensions escalate.

Fenris bared his teeth at Donnic and dodged out of the way as the taller man swung his longsword. He was quick to bring his greatsword up to parry the strike, and Donnic caught the blow on his shield before countering with a blow to Fenris’ head. They had been at it for a long time and both men were breathing hard, but neither wanted to call a halt. They likely would have continued until they were both exhausted had Aveline not entered the training grounds at that moment. Donnic lowered his blade, his brow furrowing with worry. Fenris followed his gaze and found himself sharing Donnic’s concern. Aveline looked exhausted and worried.  


“I’m glad I found you, Fenris,” she said, taking Donnic’s hand and giving him a tired smile. “You should go home, Hawke needs you.”  


“What’s wrong?” Fenris asked, feeling his heart sink. “What happened?”  


Aveline sighed. “We went to see Meredith,” she said.  


“Alone?” Fenris growled. “I would have-”  


“Hawke didn’t want to worry you,” Aveline said. “Meredith wanted her to help find some mages who had gone missing and she thought it would make you uncomfortable.”  


Fenris bit back an angry retort, knowing that Hawke’s concern was not unfair. His comfort with her and her own magic had grown exponentially over the years, but it was decidedly not the case with other mages.  


Aveline was watching him and nodded. “Varric is with her right now,” she said. “I didn’t leave her alone.”  


“I will go,” Fenris said, handing Donnic his practice blade. “Thank you for finding me, Aveline.”  


“Of course,” she said. “Please let me know if I can do anything, Fenris.”  


He nodded and jogged from the practice area, making a beeline for Hawke’s home. Orana answered the door on his first knock, her kind face worried.  


“She’s with Master Tethras in her office,” Orana said.  


Fenris nodded and took the stairs two at a time, following the murmur of voices. He knocked on the door, not wanting to intrude, and heard Varric’s heavy footsteps approaching. The dwarf’s expression was sad when he opened the door, but he gave Fenris a tired, grateful smile.  


“Hey, Broody,” he said, stepping aside to let Fenris in. As soon as he caught sight of Hawke, Fenris felt his heart sink.  
She was sitting in the window seat with her arms around her legs, staring out the window with a blank expression on her face. The only sign of emotion was the way her hand kept clenching and unclenching, and more than once Fenris thought he saw the flicker of flames around her fingers.  


Fenris went to her side and knelt down, ignoring the flicker of blue and orange at her fingertips.  


“Kadan?”  


“Fenris,” she said in a hollow, exhausted voice. “Please don’t yell at me for not bringing you to see Meredith.” Her eyes shut and he saw her swallow. “I don’t think I can take that right now.”  


“I only wish to know what happened,” Fenris said and caught the minute raise of Varric’s eyebrow. “Aveline was worried about you.”  


Hawke gave a faint smile. “She’s a good friend,” she said. She glanced at Varric. “Could you…?”  


Varric nodded. “Of course,” he said, motioning for Fenris to take a seat.  


Fenris complied and nodded for his friend to begin.  


“A couple mages escaped the circle,” Varric said without preamble. “And Meredith asked Hawke to hunt them down.”  


Fenris felt his eyes widen. “Do we need to get you to the castle?” he asked, his mind already whirling with plans for escape. “I cannot imagine that Meredith took it well when you refused her.”  


Hawke clenched her eyes shut and Varric sighed.  


_Oh,_ Fenris thought. _Oh no_. “I...see,” Fenris said, reaching up to take her hand. “You did not refuse her.”  


Hawke jerked her hand away as tears began to trickle down her face. “No,” she rasped. “I didn’t. When I tried she was very quick to point out that I am only a free woman on her sufferance.” She shook her head, her lips curling into a bitter sneer. “Some fucking Champion I am,” she said. She buried her face in her hands as her shoulders began to shake. “I killed them,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “I executed them like a fucking Templar.”  


“Hawke,” Varric said in a voice that suggested this wasn’t the first time he was saying what he was about to say. “One of them was a blood mage who you watched kill his wife. The other was an abomination. You let the idiot boy in the Hanged Man go.”  


“But I killed the others,” Hawke repeated. “I killed them, Varric. I betrayed my own kind to keep Meredith off my back and I-”  


“They were not your own kind,” Fenris growled, surprising himself with his venom. “Listen to yourself, Kadan! You hate blood magic. You hate abominations! How many of them have we fought and killed over the years?”  


“Never on Meredith’s orders,” Hawke retorted, glaring at Fenris with red-rimmed eyes. “Never as some sort of fucking Templar stooge that hunts her fellow mages!” She shook her head. “I feel like the worst sort of traitor. I should have told her no.”  


“And where would that have gotten you?” Varric asked, sounding exasperated. “Think, Hawke! Meredith could have taken you prisoner if you’d refused. Confined you to the Circle...or worse.”  


She clenched her eyes shut and a visible shudder went through her body. “Where does it end, Varric?” she asked. “What if it’s Merril she asks me to catch next. Or Anders?” She raised her eyes and looked back and forth between the two of them. The whites were showing all around her eyes and Fenris could feel the heat off her body as the flames curled around her fingers like agitated snakes. He knew from many long talks about mages and magic that it was a sign of the intensity of the emotions that she was feeling and though he trusted Hawke with his life, it frightened him a little. “I won’t do it,” she said with heat. “I won’t, because they are my friends and I love them, and that makes me a fucking hypocrite. Huon had someone who loved him. Evilina had fucking children who loved and needed her. But I killed them both anyway. What does that make me?”  


“They attacked you, Hawke,” Varric said, sounding tired.  


“Because I hunted them down,” Hawke retorted. “Like a Templar. I’m no better than Ludolf or any of them and I-”  


“Stop,” Fenris said, finally reaching out and taking her hand, flames be damned. He felt the surge of magic through his tattoos and grunted at the discomfort, but held on when Hawke tried to pull away. “No,” he said. “Enough, Hawke.”  


“Let me go,” she said, twisting her arm and trying to escape his hold.  


Fenris shook his head and held on, ignoring the constant thrum of magic pulsing through his hand and up his arm.  


“I’m hurting you!” Hawke said, her eyes going a little wild.  


“Not as badly as you are hurting,” Fenris said grimly. “I will not let you go, Hawke, not until you have calmed down and realize that you are not a Tamplar. You are not like Ludolf or any of the others that take joy in hunting mages.” He saw her take a deep breath and he stroked his thumbs over the backs of her hands and held her eyes until he felt some of the magical energy begin to abate.  


“I hate this,” she said quietly. “I _hate_ it. I hate that Meredith and her Templars have so much power. I hate that I will _never_ be free. That none of us will.”  


“You will,” Fenris swore. “Just as we said all those years ago, Hawke. Together, we will find somewhere where we can be free.”  


She gave him a watery smile that did not reach her eyes. “That’s a beautiful thought, Fenris,” she said in a tone that suggested that she did not quite believe him.  


Over the course of the next few weeks, Fenris had to admit that he couldn’t blame her for her fatalism. Every day it seemed that things in Kirkwall got worse. The restrictions on mages grew tighter and tighter, and while Meredith did not reach out to Hawke directly again, they saw Ludolf more often that Fenris was comfortable with. They even found out, through Sebastian, that the Grand Cleric was contemplating an Exalted March on Kirkwall. Hawke was visibly shaken when she returned from the meeting with “Sister Nightingale” and paced back and forth in front of the fireplace in her office, with little sparks coming off of her fingers now and then.  


“An Exalted March, Fenris!” she seethed. “After everything this city has been through, after everything that I’ve done, that we’ve done to keep the people here safe, and they want to raise an Exalted March on us because Meredith and her Templars are driving the mages to increasingly desperate acts! Damn it!”  


Fenris remained quiet, knowing that she needed to vent.  


“We don’t deserve that,” Hawke continued. “We don’t. I know that things are tense, but I can’t lose another home!”  


Fenris flinched, hearing the note of desperation in her voice. He felt much the same way about Kirkwall, but he was afraid if he spoke, Hawke would hear the conflicted nature of his thoughts. He was as much at loathe as she was to lose the only real home that he had ever known. But the fact was, he understood the position the Divine was in.. His association with Hawke had taught him that there were good mages in the world, but that didn’t negate the fact that there were plenty of mages who used their powers to do nothing but harm. And for whatever reason, a startling number of those mages resided in Kirkwall. Still, broken though it may have been, Kirkwall was his home. He knew that he would be at Hawke’s side fighting for it if it came to that.  


“Fenris?”  


He looked up at her and winced at the accusation he could see in her eyes.  


“Please don’t tell me that you agree with the Divine,” Hawke said in a horrified whisper.  


Fenris rose and went to her, reaching out and taking her hands before she could pull away. “Hawke-”  


“Maker,” she said, jerking her hands away. “You do. After all this time, after us-”  


“I do _not_ agree with her bringing down an Exalted March on Kirkwall, Hawke,” he assured her. “I just-”  


“You just what?” Hawke snapped. “Think we should all sit in our Circles like good little mages and never breathe free air again? Never use our power for anything worthwhile. Never know the touch of a lover or-”  


“Stop putting words in my mouth, Hawke!” Fenris snapped back and felt an unworthy surge of satisfaction when her eyes widened. “I do not think any of those things! But even you cannot deny that there are a disproportionate number of blood mages and abominations in Kirkwall! Surely it would be better for the other people who call this city home if they were-”  


“Were what?” Hawke growled. “Culled? Like so many diseased cattle? Maybe if Meredith and her Templars gave mages a little space to breathe, they wouldn’t have to resort to such desperate acts!”  


“Was Merril desperate when she repaired the Eluvian?” Fenris retorted before he could stop himself.  


Hawke jerked her hands away and put them on her hips, her eyes beginning to water. “That isn’t fair-”  


“Because she is your friend?” Fenris pressed. “Keeper Marethari died because of Merril, Hawke. It was not desperation that made her seek the aid of a demon, it was hubris!”  


“Do you think I don’t carry Marethari’s death with me, Fenris?” Hawke said.  


“I know that _you_ do,” Fenris said, trying to make his tone more gentle. “I know that you do, Hawke, but you and I both know that Merril still doesn’t think that she did anything wrong.”  


Hawke flinched.  


“And Anders...Anders did not believe he had done anything wrong until it became clear that he was losing control of Justice,” Fenris added. “And there are so many like them in Kirkwall, Hawke. So many who see blood magic or demons as a justifiable means to an end and I-I am only saying that I understand the Divine’s concern about our city.” He took her hands again. “But that does not mean that I will not fight at your side for Kirkwall, should it ever be needful.”  


Her eyes widened fractionally before she took a step forward and hugged him around the waist.  


“There is good in our city, Fenris,” she said, her voice muffled somewhat by his chest. “I know there is, and it’s worth fighting for.”  


Fenris nodded and then rested his chin on the top of her head. “I agree,” he said. He felt her sag a little against him and he caught her, clasping her more tightly to himself. “Come,” he said, “let’s get you to bed.”  


Hawke jerked back, shaking her head wildly. “NO!” she protested. “Fenris, I can’t!”  


He raised an eyebrow. “You are exhausted, Hawke,” he said. “You need to rest.”  


She took a deep breath and when she let it out, it sounded ragged. “I’m scared to sleep,” she said in a small voice that broke his heart. “I’m scared to dream, Fenris.”  


“You are afraid that Rage will find you again,” Fenris said. In the time since Hawke had learned that she was not an abomination, the two of them had spoken at some length about her dream.  


She nodded.  


“Very well,” Fenris said, taking her hand and leading her over to the couch where they read. “Then let me read to you while you rest. You do not have to sleep.”  


He picked up the book about dragons and chivvied her over to the couch, taking the spot leaning back against the arm. She sat down between his legs and leaned back against him, turning so she could wrap her arms around his waist. “How is this?” he asked, brushing his lips against her forehead.  


Hawke nodded against him. “Fenris?”  


“Hmm?”  


She looked up at him and he ached at the worry in her eyes. “If the Divine does March on Kirkwall...would you really fight at my side? At the side of mages? Even the bad ones?”  


“I shall,” he said without hesitation for he knew it to be true. There could be only one side in what felt like the inevitable war for him, and that was whatever side Hawke was on. She kissed his cheek and then snuggled under his chin as he launched into the chapter pertaining to the alchemical uses for dragon parts. She was asleep within three paragraphs, but Fenris kept reading anyway, knowing that his voice helped to soothe her. Only when she had started to snore did he stop and begin to read to himself silently. His broader feelings about mages and magic notwithstanding, Fenris knew as he looked at his Kadan curled up against him that there was one mage in particular that he would stop at nothing to protect.

****

 _I will get you in the end._  


_Hawke gritted her teeth and spun around, her staff already whirling in her hand as she faced Rage._  


_“The hell you will!” she snarled back._  


_Fenris stepped out of the darkness, his tattoos blazing as he approached her._  


_**You are tired, Kadan,** he said and his intonation was so perfect that for the briefest second Hawke felt the pull to go to him and let him take her in his arms._  


_“You are not Fenris,” Hawke growled. “Stop it.”_  


_**Am I not?** Not-Fenris said. **The eggs of the Abyssal High Dragon are known for the intense heat needed to incubate them. Moreso than the other High Dragons, a constant near-boiling temperature is necessary once the eggs have been fertilized to-**_  


_“Shut up!” Hawke swung her staff at Not-Fenris’ head, but he was no longer there._  


_**The Divine is going to march on Kirkwall,** Rage, it was Rage, she had to keep that in her head. It wasn’t Fenris. **And she is right to do so. This city has been plagued by Maleficars and Abominations for too long.**_  


_“You don’t think that,” Hawke argued, trying to tamp down the feeling in her gut that this was in fact, exactly what the man she loved thought. “He doesn’t think that.”_  


_**Left unchecked, Kirkwall will be as Minrathous is,** Rage said, and then suddenly Hawke saw herself wearing distinctly Tevinter dress, her elbow resting on Danarius’s shoulder as the magister raised a whip over Fenris’ crumpled body._  


_**You know things can’t continue this way, Sweetheart,** Varric said, his warm eyes too warm as he came to her, shaking his head. **Something has to give.**_  


_**You have made things worse here,** Aveline said. **Made more work for me.**_  


_**You gave the Templars someone to hate,** Anders said. **An untouchable mage that made them want to attack the rest of us.**_  


_“I only ever wanted to help!” Hawke moaned, brandishing her staff._  


_**And what has that brought this city?**_  


_Hawke stumbled, almost dropping to her knees at the sound of her mother’s voice._  


_**Ever since you were a child, whenever you ‘helped’, disaster followed. They would all be better off if you just...stopped.**_  


_**Or if you are going to ‘help’, embrace your potential Sweet Pea, and HELP.**_  


_Hawke **did** drop then, covering her ears as her father’s voice joined her mothers._  


_**Perhaps if you had helped in Lothering, I would still be alive,** Bethany said and Hawke could feel the heat of her tears on her cheeks._  


_“I am not a monster!” Hawke protested, clenching her eyes shut so that she wouldn’t have to see them. “Mages aren’t monsters!”_  


_**But the potential is there in all of us,** Merril said, holding the Arulin'Holm, the bodies of her clan scattered at her feet._  


_**And after all that has happened,** Anders said, his eyes glowing blue, **how can you call whatever happens anything but...Justice.**_

Hawke thrashed, knocking the book from his hands as she stared with wide, unseeing eyes at him. Fenris caught her out of habit, clasping both of her wrists in one of his hands as he reached for her cheek with the other.  


She flinched away from him. “Let me go!” she sobbed as she struggled to get free.  


“Hawke, it’s me!” Fenris said.  


Hawke flinched at the sound of his voice, clenching her eyes shut. “You think we’re all monsters!” she said, finally managing to thrash away so hard that she fell to the ground. “That our pride will kill the common folk of Kirkwall! You said it! You said-”  


“I said that I understand why the Divine is worried about Kirkwall,” Fenris murmured, perching on the edge of the couch and looking down at her. “And so do you.” He slid down to join her on the floor. “I also said that I would fight at your side for our city.” He reached out, barely brushing his fingertips over her cheeks.  


She flinched again, but at least she didn’t pull away. “Rage said that it would get me in the end,” she said quietly. “Maybe it’s right.”  


“Rage can be controlled,” Fenris said firmly. “Especially by you.”  


“But I-”  


“Do you not think _I_ carry rage with me?” Fenris pressed her. “If I can control it, so can you.”  


“I know that you do,” Hawke said. “I remember what you said the night we first slept together.”  


Fenris blinked at her. He wasn’t even sure what he had said that night, beyond breaking Hawke’s heart.  


“You said that the hate they planted in you...that it dogged you no matter where you went.” She shook her head, scrubbing her hands over her face. “I think I understand what you meant now.” She looked up at him and Fenris almost withdrew at the intensity of the anger he saw in her eyes. “I _hate_ them, Fenris. The Templars, Meredith, I hate them.”  


Fenris scooted closer to her and took her into his arms, hating the rigidity he felt in her spine and shoulders. He was uncertain of what to say. It felt hypocritical to counsel her against hate, but at the same time he did not want her to be consumed as he so often was. Hate brought darkness and he wanted nothing to dampen Hawke’s light. But as he looked into her eyes, he knew that for the moment the battle had been lost. Rage and hate lurked there like twin wolves at the edge of a fire during a lean winter. He could only hope that his own inner wolf was strong enough to match them.

####

“Is Hawke all right?” Aveline asked quietly as the four of them made their way down to the Lowtown one chilly night a few days later. They were on a trail following complaints about the guard that had been reported to Captain Cullen. Aveline was tense and had been since they had stopped an ambush that had involved Donnic, so Fenris doubly appreciated that she was checking in on Hawke.  


Fenris sighed, shaking his head. Ahead of them Hawke walked with Varric, leaning a little too heavily on her staff. “She hasn’t been sleeping,” he said. “Not since-”  


“Not since hunting the mages down for Meredith,” Aveline finished for him.  


Fenris nodded.  


Aveline sighed, shaking her head. “She threw up,” she said without preamble. “After we killed Evilina. All the fights we’ve been in, all the things we’ve seen...I’ve never seen her react that way.”  


“She feels like a traitor,” Fenris said in a low voice. “For attacking ‘her people’.”  


Aveline frowned, shaking her head. “Blood Mages and Abomination are not ‘her people’,” she said hotly. “ _We_ are.”  


“Yes,” Fenris agreed. “But as tensions grow, I fear that the lines between the good and evil mages become increasingly blurred. I worry at how readily Hawke throws in her lot with them. I fear that-” the words stuck in his throat.  


“That she’ll get herself killed for the cause,” Aveline said softly.  


Unable to speak, Fenris simply nodded.  


“We won’t let that happen,” Aveline said, her strong jaw set in a stubborn line.  


Fenris was about to respond when Hawke held up a hand, motioning for them to be silent. Ahead they heard a voice that was familiar, but Fenris could not place. He heard a soft oath from Aveline.  


“What is it?” Hawke whispered as they caught up to her and Varric.  


“Jevan,” Aveline said, her lips curling with distaste.  


Hawke blinked at her, the dark circles under her eyes growing more apparent as her eyes widened. “Shit...the old guard captain? What’s he doing?”  


“Nothing good,” Aveline said grimly. “Let’s go.”  


Together they walked down the stairs into a little alley where a blond man was ranting. There were worried murmurs as the Champion and the Guard Captain approached, and the man’s eyes narrowed as they came into view.  


“Jevan!” Aveline said, her voice cutting through his rant about foreign elites bleeding the hapless people of Kirkwall. “You disgrace yourself!”  


“The Ferelden with the Orlesian name,” Jevan said with contempt. “Is there anyone else who so embodies how far this city has fallen?”  


Hawke raised an eyebrow and took half a step back, gesturing at Jevan. “This one is all yours, captain.”  


Aveline didn’t miss a beat. “Do they know how you sacrificed your men?” she asked, gesturing at the onlookers. “How you alone disgraced your name?”  


“Bitch! You took everything from me!” Jevan sputtered and Fenris saw Aveline place a restraining hand on Hawke’s arm at the insult.  


“You took it from yourself,” Aveline spat back. “The guard know this, and none stand with you!” She turned to the gathered people, her chin up and shoulders square, a sharp contrast to the angry broken man who also stood before them. “He stand alone! This is no rebellion. It is delusion! A joke inflicted on Kirkwall. Your home, and mine.” The last was said with the fierce protectiveness of a lioness defending her territory and Fenris felt a surge of pride in his friend. He readied his weapon and saw Hawke and Varric do the same.  


“I will not be left with nothing again,” Jevan growled.  


“No,” Aveline said. “You shall have less.”  


Hawke gave a theatrical sigh and for the first time in days sounded like herself. “They never learn,” she said to Varric.  


The dwarf answered with a feral grin. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he said. "Would you?" 

Hawke bared her teeth in an equally feral smile, and for an awful moment Fenris thought he saw the flicker of fire in her eyes. "Fuck no." 

It got bloody after that, as it usually did, but Jevan and his small group were no match for the four of them. Varric peppered them from the shadows, popping in and out of view as Fenris and Aveline wallowed into the meat of the fray. Steel clashed on steel as the two of them whirled around each other in a familiar pattern borne of many, many battles fought side by side. Hawke darted in and out, sometimes attacking, sometimes healing, until Jevan and his men lay broken and dead before them.  


Aveline wiped her blade before sheathing it, then approached Jevan’s body. “You fool,” she said and Fenris heard the regret in her voice. “Why would you do this?” She turned to Hawke, shaking her head. “If I live to a hundred, I will never understand his kind.” She seemed to shake herself out of her reverie. “To the Barracks, Hawke, my guardsmen will be waiting.”  


The trip back to the barracks was a somber one, and Fenris fell into step beside Varric as the two women walked ahead, talking quietly. Fenris saw Hawke put her arm around the taller woman’s waist, and to his surprise, Aveline leaned her head on top of Hawke’s for a moment.  


Fenris was less surprised back at the barracks when Donnic reported that Aveline’s guards would “follow her through the void”. He had seen many varieties of leaders in his life, and he knew Aveline to be a good one. Still, he was pleased to see the tension leave her shoulders as she smiled at her husband. She asked Hawke to return to talk to her later and once Hawke had promised to come the next day, Hawke left with Fenris and Varric in tow.  


“It makes you think,” Hawke mused as the three of them made their way towards her home.  


Fenris and Varric glanced at each other and Fenris saw the worry on the dwarf’s face, knowing it was echoed on his own. Hawke’s musings had grown increasingly grim over the past several weeks.  


“Aveline is one of the best people I know,” she continued, not appearing to notice their trepidation. “She’s a great Guard Captain. But there was still someone dissatisfied, still someone ready to tear it all down in the hopes that the next thing will be better.” She shook her head. “If mages were to achieve everything I dream of, everything Anders dreams of...what would come next? Something worse than Templars? The Tranquil Solution for every child born a mage?” She wrapped her arms around herself, taking hold of her elbows. “The pendulum always swings,” she whispered. “And who is to say that what comes next is better?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your patience! Life got crazy and then on top of the usual work craziness, I had an accident and got a concussion, which has made writing even harder. I think I am starting to find a rhythm again and I really hope that you enjoyed this chapter. Next chapter will concern Varric's Act III Companion quest. I am hoping to have it up by mid-October at the latest.


	38. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plagued by nightmares brought on by Rage, Hawke finds herself beginning to unravel, much to the worry of her friends. Returning to Bartrand's mansion does nothing to help her difficult state of mind and those close to her struggle with how to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING: SUBSTANCE ABUSE (ALCOHOL)**

Hawke shouldered open the door to the Hanged Man, frowning. She was in a terrible mood. She felt like she’d been in a terrible mood for a lifetime. The city was tense in a way that reminded her uncomfortably of the weeks before the Qunari attacked and she had all but stopped sleeping. She knew that it was dangerous. She knew that being sleep deprived made her jumpy and when she did finally fall into an exhausted slumber, Rage was always there waiting. More than once she’d awoken to Fenris holding her murmuring comforting words and she’d come close to attacking him, thinking it was another trick of the Fade. Nothing had happened yet. But that didn’t mean that it wouldn’t.  


Fuck she needed a drink.  


The familiar chorus of “Hawke!” made her smile at least, and Norah was ready at the bar with a double of the slightly sweet Brayside single malt that had lately replaced wine. She threw back the first drink and motioned for another, nodding to Isabela who appeared to be chatting up a couple further down the bar. Norah handed her her second drink and Hawke put a sovereign down, giving the other woman a tired smile. Norah returned it with a rare one of her own and the sovereign disappeared so fast it might have been magic.  


Turning away from the bar and whatever it was that Isabela was miming, Hawke trudged up the stairs to Varric’s quarters and rapped on the door. She opened it before he could answer and saw him at his desk, writing.  


“Hawke!” he said, sounding surprised. His eyes took in her drink, her face, and the rumpled state of her clothes and he rose, hurrying over to her. “I was just writing you a note. Your timing is impeccable.”  


“It’s what I do,” Hawke said, plopping down and swinging her legs up onto his desk. “What’s going on?”  


Varric sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I know this is ancient history, but you remember that Hightown house that Bartrand barricaded himself in? No point in keeping a house for a dead man. I’ve been trying to get rid of the place for ages now.”  


Hawke snorted. “I’m sure loads of people are lining up to take it off your hands,” she teased, taking a sip of the whisky and sighing with pleasure as it burned its way down.  


“The kind of people who are interested in that sort of thing don’t usually have the gold to buy it,” Varric said wryly. “I found a minor noble in Rivain who bought the house sight unseen, but now there’s a problem. They say the place is...haunted.”  


Hawke nodded. “The Veil is thin there, after the horrors that Bartrand did,” she said. She shuddered, remembering all of the corpses.  


Varric shrugged. “They’ve noticed some...minor problems. Voices whispering in the walls, apparitions, things moving on their own. My hope is it’s a relic Bartrand brought back from the Deep Roads. We smash it, and the haunting stops.”  


Hawke sighed, swinging her legs down and lurching to her feet. “Very well,” she said. “We’ll investigate the mansion. Again.”  


“I knew I could count on you, Hawke,” Varric said. His brow furrowed. “Why don’t you stay awhile, you look tired.”  


“I’m fine,” Hawke said immediately, wincing at how defensive she sounded.  


“Sure,” Varric said, “but we haven’t had a drink, just the two of us, in a bit.”  


“You’d have to catch up,” she said, glancing at his window. Fenris would be at the barracks training with the guard still, he wouldn’t miss her for awhile.  


“I can do that,” Varric said. He reached for the decanter of Rivaini red and Hawke raised an eyebrow.  


“Not with that, you won’t.”  


He snorted and poured for them and Hawke tossed back the last of her whisky before accepting the glass from him. They touched their glasses together and Hawke took a sip. The wine felt heavy and a little sweet on her tongue. “Fortified?” she asked, smacking her lips appreciatively.  


Varric grinned. “As the Fucking Castle,” he replied, motioning for her to join him in the comfortable chairs by the fire. Once they were settled, they fell into the easy rhythm of sharing old stories and soon Hawke found herself relaying the mortifying story of her first kiss.  


“So there I was, in old Cooglin’s cornfield, and his daughter Nessa, who was about my age, leans in real close to me. And we’d been flirting for _ages_ , so when she did I thought that she was going for it, so I figured what the hell, I’ll go for it, and I closed my eyes and puckered up.”  


Varric shook his head. “Let me guess, that’s when the farmer caught you with his daughter?”  


Hawke shook her head, blinking down into her glass. It was empty again. “I think I need some...fortifying to continue,” she said and held the glass out. Varric hesitated for a moment, then poured for her. She took another sip. “Right, so there I am, lips puckered up, and I feel something in my hair. And I open my eyes and there’s Nessa holding -- I shit you not -- a fucking wolf spider that had gotten into my hair!”  


Varric laughed, shaking his head. “Shit, that’s embarrassing.”  


Hawke nodded and took another sip of wine. It really was very good. “And she looks at me and she goes ‘Saoirse Hawke, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to kiss me!’ And of course, smooth asshole that I am, I just say ‘well I was _trying!_ ’” She raised her glass. “Got the kiss though.” She chuckled. “Old Cooglin chased me off the farm with a scythe.” Tears sprang into her eyes suddenly, blurring Varric and the fire. “He died protecting her,” she said, clenching her eyes shut at the sudden wave of memories and the tears they brought with them. “A hurlock was coming after her and he got between them with that same scythe. He managed to wound it before it had his guts out.” Suddenly the bile rose in her throat and she lurched out of her seat, stumbling for the chamber pot at the recollection of Old Cooglin trying to put his intestines, wet and shining with blood, back inside as Nessa screamed. Nessa had beheaded the hurlock with the scythe and held her father as he died, promising to go to their relatives in Orlais. Hawke wondered if she’d made it. She retched noisily, wincing as vomit splashed on her shirt and onto the floor. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve. 

“Fuck,” she panted. “Your floor.”  


“It’s all right, Sweetheart,” Varric said softly, pressing a cup of water into her hands. “I’ll get it. Drink some water.”  


“I don’t want water!” Hawke said, shoving off the wall and stumbling to her feet. The water from the cup splashed onto her shirt and down on top of the vomit. The room spun around her and she caught Varric’s shoulder to steady herself. “Let me clean it up, then, more wine! That’ll get the taste out of my mouth!”  


“I think you’ve had enough, Hawke,” Varric said.  


“Psshhhhh,” Hawke said, blinking owlishly as she looked around the room for something to mop up her vomit with. Where did Varric keep his handkerchiefs again? He always had one. That’s right, top right drawer of the bureau. But that was all the way across the room. And her shirt already had vomit on it. She wriggled out of it with a triumphant smile, dropping it on the floor and sopping up the spilled water and flecks of vomit with it. “We should prolly throw that away,” she said. “But ‘sall clean now. Let’s have some more wine.”  


“Drink some water first, Hawke,” Varric said and his voice sounded oddly far away.  


“I don’t _want_ water,” Hawke said. “I want wine.”  


Varric sighed and when Hawke finally focused her eyes on him she scowled. She knew the look on his face. He wasn’t going to give her any more wine.  


“Fine,” she said, lifting her chin. “I’mma go home. There’s wine there.”  


“You are not walking back to Hightown drunk and without a shirt,” Varric said. “Just sit down and have some water.”  


“No,” Hawke said and began to walk to the door.  


Varric was in front of her like magic, but he was a dwarf, and dwarves didn’t do magic. “I can’t let you do that, Hawke,” he said.  


Stupid stubborn dwarf.  


“Just let me go home,” she said, forcing herself to articulate each word clearly. “You aren’t my-my mother, Varric, you can’t tell me what to do.”  


“And yet, here I am.”  


Hawke scowled and felt traitorous tears in her eyes. “Stop trying to take care of me!” she exploded, trying to shove past him.  


“No,” Varric said, infuriatingly calm.  


“Just let me go!”  


“So that you can get yourself killed walking home?” Varric asked, catching her wrists. “Or worse?” His eyes glinted in the firelight.  


“You’d be better off,” Hawke retorted and saw him recoil like she’d actually landed a blow.  


“We are not having this conversation again,” Varric growled. “Especially while you’re drunk.”  


“I’m not drunk!” She finally succeeded in wrestling her wrists away from him and stood panting.  


“The hell you aren’t!” Varric replied. “Saoirse-”  


“Just...stop!” she said, covering her face with both hands so she didn’t have to look at him. “I want to go home.” The sobs hit her hard then and she found herself doubling over as they ripped from her throat. “I just want to go home!”  


She felt Varric’s strong arms wrap around her, scooping her up and depositing her somewhere soft that smelled like him. She felt his weight next to her and then she was burying her face in his chest and bawling like a child as he rubbed her back and let her cry. She cried until the tears dried up, until she was dry heaving and Varric was pressing more water into her hands. She drank it down and then cried some more, for everything she’d lost and everything she was terrified she was going to lose. She cried until her throat was raw and only then did she finally, mercifully lose consciousness. 

####

Varric held Hawke, listening to her snore and doing his best to keep still. She had finally stopped crying a little while ago, but his chest was still damp from her tears. He’d ended up lending her his shirt sometime after the second bout of hysterical tears, when she’d started to shiver. She had panicked when he tried to get up and get a new one, clutching at him and sobbing something about losing him too. So, he had gathered her back up in his arms, tucked them both in, and let Hawke fall asleep on him.  


It wasn’t the first time Hawke had gotten drunk and slept in his room. But this time felt different. Drunk by noon. Bawling by one. It was a bad place.  


He was so caught up in his worrying that he didn’t hear Fenris at the door until the elf pushed it open and called out to him.  


Pinching the bridge of his nose, Varric answered softly. “Over here, Broody.” He heard Fenris’ footsteps approach and then abruptly stop. He opened his eyes and saw the elf standing at the foot of the bed, an inscrutable look on his face.  


“If this were one of your books,” Fenris began, one of his dark eyebrows rising almost to his hairline. “This would be the moment that I accused you of sleeping with the woman I love and then stormed off.”  


“The end of act two misunderstanding,” Varric replied softly. “It’s a classic.”  


“Why is she wearing your shirt?” Fenris asked, sitting down on the other side of Hawke and tenderly brushing his thumb over her cheek. She murmured something and snuggled into Varric’s chest, her arm tightening around him.  


Varric sighed. “She threw up on hers. Then tried to clean up with it.”  


“Oh, Hawke,” Fenris murmured. “Whisky?” he asked, his eyes not leaving her.  


Varric nodded. “I got her to switch to wine, at least. When’s the last time she slept, Fenris?”  


The elf shook his head. “I could not honestly say,” he replied. “She stays awake at night until exhaustion takes her...or the wine does. She is afraid of dreaming.”  


“Rage,” Varric said, glancing down at Hawke. She looked so peaceful in that moment. It wasn’t fair that mages had to endure such things, just to get a little rest. “Damn it.” He looked over at Fenris and saw the worry scrawled across the elf’s face. “I did my best, Broody.”  


“Thank you, Varric,” Fenris replied. “Maker alone knows what would have happened if you’d let her go.”  


“I never would,” Varric said firmly.  


The smile Fenris gave him was a wan one. “I know, salroka,” he said. “Come, we should let her sleep. I’ll buy you a drink.”  


Slowly Varric extricated himself, nudging a pillow in his place and tucking Hawke in when she murmured. He leaned down and brushed his lips over her temple, before rising and grabbing a clean shirt from his bureau. Then he followed Fenris out of his quarters and down to the bar.. “Has she been here long?” Fenris asked, when they were settled.  


“Since about noon,” Varric said with a sigh. “I thought it was going to be all right at first, but she started talking about Lothering.”  


Fenris winced and Varric had the suspicion that this wasn’t the first time.  


“I’m worried about her, Fenris,” Varric said.  


“As am I,” Fenris said and the helplessness on his face broke Varric’s heart. “And I am...limited in how much I can help. My feelings about mages have made it difficult for her to confide in me regarding her fears.” He took a sip of his wine and then stared down into the glass, frowning. “I fear some part of her believes that I agree with Meredith and the Divine.”  


“Do you?” Varric asked. Anyone with ears knew Fenris’ feelings about mages.  


“Had you asked me six years ago, I would have said an unequivocal ‘yes’,” Fenris admitted. “But I am not that man any longer.”  


Varric raised an eyebrow. “Have you told Blondie?” he teased gently. “I think he’d bake you a cake.”  


Fenris snorted. “I am not advocating for the disbanding of the Circles,” he said. “I think mages need somewhere to practice their craft that does not put the general populace at risk.” He shook his head. “But I cannot agree with how Meredith handles things. She is making a volatile situation worse. This was how slave rebellions began back in Tevinter.” His brows knitted together. “I just wish that she trusted me,” he said softly.  


“She does, Broody,” Varric said immediately. “You have to know that.”  


“Not like she trusts you,” Fenris said sharply and Varric blinked, staring at him. There was tension that he hadn’t noticed before there and he found himself feeling unusually anxious about how Fenris had found him and Hawke. He’d never felt that way before.  


“Fenris-”  


“I am sorry,” Fenris said, shaking his head and massaging his temples. “I have not been sleeping much either. You did not deserve that.” He smiled wanly at Varric. “I am grateful that she has your friendship.”  


“You _both_ do,” Varric said and Fenris nodded. The two were quiet for a few moments before Varric cleared his throat and told Fenris about the mansion.  


“I take it Hawke has already agreed to help?” Fenris asked.  


“She has,” Varric said. “Though whether she’ll remember that she has tomorrow...I don’t know.” He shook his head, staring down into his wine. “Why can’t anything ever be easy?”  


“Excuse me,” said a nervous sounding male voice.  


Varric glanced up to see a handsome young man with a beautiful woman hovering just behind him. “Yes?”  


“‘Bela said to find ‘the dwarf with the chest hair’ and tell him that Hawke went out the back door and she’s following her towards Hightown’,” the man said.  


“Does she mean the Champion of Kirkwall?” the woman breathed. “I had heard they were friends but-”  


“Another time she’d be happy to sign an autograph,” Varric said, cutting her off as he shot to his feet. “Broody?”  


Together he and Fenris hurried up the stairs and out the back door of the Hanged Man, making their way towards Hightown.  


No, nothing was ever easy.

####

Hawke stumbled down the alley, wishing that she had brought her staff so that she had something to lean on. She was mostly sober, but her legs hadn’t gotten the message. She knew that Varric would be upset with her for leaving, but as soon as she’d woken up shame had overwhelmed her. She could smell the vomit and she hated that she’d once again been a pathetic sobbing mess. Why the hell did Varric put up with her?  


She heard rapid footsteps behind her and whirled around to find her face full of Isabela’s chest.  


“There you are!” the pirate said, wrapping her arms around Hawke and resting her chin on her head. “I hope you know how much I love you. I was having a very nice time with Marci and Colin when I saw you traipsing off by yourself.” She shook her head and gave Hawke a long look. “I heard you carrying on with Varric earlier. And you smell worse than I do. What are you thinking wandering off alone and drunk?”  


“I’m not drunk,” Hawke said and spoiled it somewhat by stumbling.  


Isabela snorted and wrapped her arm around Hawke’s waist, steadying her. “Bullshit,” she said cheerfully. She began to walk towards Hightown. “The boys are worried about you,” she said after a few moments.  


Hawke was glad that the chilly night air had sharpened her senses somewhat. “They don’t need to be,” she said. “Neither do you.” She winced at how waspish she sounded.  


“Tough titties,” Isabela said. “I worry about my friends. It’s one of the more annoying things I picked up from you.”  


There wasn’t much Hawke could say to that, so she let Isabela lead her home where she was unsurprised to find Varric and Fenris waiting for her.  


“Here’s our girl all safe and sound!” Isabela said. She glanced at the two men and then back at Hawke. “You going to be ok?” she asked quietly. “Or do you want me to stay?”  


“I’ll be all right,” Hawke said, hearing how tired she sounded. “Thanks for looking out for me ‘Bela.”  


Isabela kissed her cheek, then gave her a little swat on the ass. “Anytime,” she said. “You kids have fun. I’m going to go and finish what I started.” She loped off towards the Hanged Man and Hawke sighed, shaking her head. She recognized the looks on Varric and Fenris’ faces. She just wasn’t in the mood. “Well?” she said, pushing past them and into the house. “Are you guys ready to go hunt some ghosts? Bodahn can get a message to Aveline.”  


“Of course, Mistress!” Bodahn said, popping out of one of the anterooms and tucking the cloth he used to polish silver into a pocket. “Won’t be two shakes.” He hurried off and Hawke caught the look that passed between Varric and Fenris.  


“You’re both already armed,” Hawke said with false brightness. “Why not handle this now?”  


“Hawke…” Varric trailed off, looking uncertain.  


“Hawke, you are in no state to go hunting ghosts,” Fenris said bluntly, crossing his arms.  


Hawke crossed to her potion desk and threw back an elfroot potion, wincing at the bitter taste. She felt the aftereffects of the alcohol immediately start to subside and held her arms out at her sides, giving Fenris what she knew was a petulant look. “All better,” she said.  


“Overstating things a bit,” Varric noted and Hawke gritted her teeth.  


“I’m going to go hunt some ghosts,” she said, turning her back on both of them and reaching for her armor.  


“You’re still wearing my shirt,” Varric said. “Hawke, just slow down for a second would you so we can talk?”  


She froze, clenching her fists. “I don’t _want_ to talk,” she said. “There’s nothing to talk about.”  


“Hawke, we’re worried-”  


“Just _stop_ ,” Hawke said, whirling around to face them. “Just stop with the questions and the worry, would you please? I’m scared every fucking day that this city is going to explode and there’s fuck-all I can do about it so yes, I’m drinking more than I should be, but it’s the only way I can fucking sleep without Rage paying a fucking house call so just leave. It. Alone.” She tried not to feel satisfaction at the stricken looks on their faces as she squared her shoulders. “I’m going to change, and then I am going to hunt some ghosts because at least it’s something to do besides sit and worry. The two of you are welcome to join me. Or not. Whatever you want to do.” Without looking at them she stormed off upstairs to change her shirt. At least the ghosts wouldn’t want to talk about feelings. 

####

The mansion was at least as unpleasant as Fenris remembered, and immediately the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he looked around. The air felt...charged, like a hilltop during a thunderstorm, and his impression was not improved when Varric looked around wildly.  


“Where is that singing coming from? You hear it, right, Hawke?” he said.  


“Something in this house is restless,” Fenris said, unnerved by Varric’s statement.  


“I don’t like this,” Aveline said and Fenris nodded.  


Together they began to move deeper into the mansion and Fenris felt his eyes widen when a vase floated up off of a shelf and just...hovered.  


“In about 10 seconds I’m just going to smash everything in sight,” Aveline hissed.  


Hawke had her staff out in front of her and Fenris was glad to see that her hands were steady. They hadn’t spoken of her outburst during the walk to the mansion and he rather suspected that she would not be inclined to talk about it further. Every day his worry about her grew it felt like as he watched the bags under her eyes deepen. She was drinking in the mornings now, and throughout the day, and he had forced himself to accept that he could not stop her. As much as he loved her, however, he also couldn’t be around her when she was too far into her cups. She was unpredictable in a way that brought back memories of his life in Tevinter. She never directed it at him, but swung wildly between anxious pacing, fits of sobbing, and black moods so filled with rage that the air around her crackled.  


“Fenris?” Aveline’s voice pulled him out of his reverie. “Is everything all right?”  


He glanced at her. He supposed that after so many years of friendship it shouldn’t put him on edge when his friends guessed at what was in his head. “No,” he admitted. Varric and Hawke walked ahead of them, Varric following his own internal sense of direction.  


“Does it have anything to do with why you’ve been spending so much time at the guard compound?” Aveline asked.  


Fenris raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged. “Donnic told me.”  


He sighed and nodded. “She is struggling,” he said equally quietly. “And I cannot help. I do not like being helpless.”  


“Things are tense in the city,” Aveline said, raising her shield as books flew past them onto a bookshelf.  


“The disturbances are growing stronger,” Fenris said loud enough for Hawke and Varric to hear.  


“We’re getting closer, I can feel it, Hawke!” Varric’s voice was high and strained and Fenris frowned. He did not like the edge of excitement he heard.  


“I just wish that I knew what to do,” Fenris said. He jumped as a sobbing shade crossed the hall in front of them.  


“Blessed Andraste,” Aveline breathed.  


Fenris forced himself to ignore the chill that went down his spine as if in answer a vase flew through the air and slammed to the ground.  


“Holy shit!” Varric gasped.  


“Whatever is here is angry,” Fenris said. He gave Aveline what he hoped was a grateful smile and hurried to Hawke’s side. Together they climbed the stairs and slowly approached the room where Bartrand had been hunkered down the idol, all those years ago. Varric opened the door and Fenris raised his sword when there was motion on the inside.  


A young human woman ran towards them, her eyes wide and frightened. “Are you real?” she asked. “You’ve got to get out of here before it comes back!”  


Fenris was about to respond when Varric spoke first.  


“Where’s the idol?” Varric asked, his voice unusually cold.  


“What idol?” the woman asked, plainly confused.  


Varric shook his head. “Don’t waste my time with your lies. Tell me where it is!” Fenris stared at his friend, shocked at the sudden change in his demeanor. It was utterly unlike Varric to be so ruthless.  


“I didn’t exactly want to stay for dinner,” said Hawke, sounding the most like herself she had in weeks. “But I think we’ve got a few minutes to hear her out.”  


Varric glared at her. “She’s hiding something, Hawke!” He turned back to the young woman. “Don’t lie to me, I know it’s here. You must have found it!”  


The young woman held up her hands. “I swear, I don’t know anything about an idol. Please!”  


Varric took a step forward, raising his hands and if the whole room hadn’t suddenly shaken with a deep, unearthly rumble Fenris wasn’t sure what Varric would have done.  


“Maker, no! It’s starting again!” The young woman ran away and almost immediately there was a horrified scream. Hawke sprinted out the door and they were quick to follow. They skidded to a halt on the landing, staring down at the grim scene below. The young woman was lying dead at the feet of an oddly ethereal golem. Fenris saw the shimmering blue of Hawke’s Healing Aura spring up and then, the fight was on.  


Between the golem and the various shades and demons that accompanied it, the fight was a challenging one. More than once Fenris saw Hawke’s aura wink out as she switched to directly attacking their enemies. She never let her offensive work get in the way of looking out for the rest of them, however, and by the time the golem fell they could all boast that they were only left with surface level scratches and bruises.  


Varric hurried to the crumpled remains of the creature, bending down and picking something up from the floor. “This...this is a piece of the idol,” he breathed almost reverently. “I should have known Bartrand would lie to me. Of course he’d keep a piece of the statue for himself.” He turned to them and there was an unusually avaricious light in his eyes. “Think of what we could do with this!”  


Hawke crossed her arms, shaking her head. “I don’t know about you, Varric, but I don’t want to end up like Bartrand.”  


Varric drew himself up, his brows knitting together as his expression turned thunderous. Fenris felt the alarming urge to interpose his body between the dwarf and Hawke. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Varric look at Hawke that way. “I’m not my brother, Hawke! The idol drove him crazy, but this is just one tiny piece!” The desperation in his voice put Fenris hackles up. “I need this thing! Six years of my life have gone into this!” His tone turned pleading, but there was still an edge of anger in it. ”My only hope of finding out what happened to my brother is with this shard!”  


Hawke was staring at him like he was a child who had just run full-tilt into the wall. “Varric, if you keep that thing, you will go mad.” She gave a tiny half-smile that was clearly meant to diffuse the tension that had sprung up around them. “I’ll have to kill you and Bianca will be heartbroken.”  


Varric didn’t so much as wink back at her. “You aren’t listening, Hawke! I know I can handle this shard.”  


Hawke’s expression was equally mulish as Varric’s and Fenris could feel the effort she was making to keep her tone light. “Acting crazy isn’t a compelling argument for keeping that accursed thing,” she said and though her tone was teasing, there was steel behind it.  


Varric threw up his hands. “Fine,” he spat. “I don’t really want to argue about this anyway. Take it.” His hand shook slightly as he pressed the thing into Hawke’s palm. She immediately pulled out a handkerchief and wrapped the shard up, tucking it deep into her belt pouch. “It’s your problem now. Maybe ‘Enchantment’ boy can dispose of it for you.” He turned and began to walk towards the front of the mansion. “Let’s go, I think I could use some air.”  


He left them as soon as they got outside, making a beeline for the Hanged Man, and Hawke’s expression was sad as she watched him.  


“You made the right choice,” Fenris said, taking her hand.  


Aveline nodded. “That thing is dangerous,” she said. “Better Sandal use it to make something useful than it do to Varric what it did to Bartrand.”  


“He’s angry at me,” Hawke said quietly.  


“He’ll get over it,” Aveline said. “Or I’ll have something to say about it.” She caught Hawke in a hug. “You know you can always talk to me, right? My door is always open for you, Hawke.”  


Hawke nodded, hugging the taller woman back. “Thanks, Aveline. I know.” She smiled up at the guard captain, but it was a sad one. “You’re the best.”  


Aveline snorted, but smiled back before bidding them goodnight.  


Hawke rolled her neck with a grunt of pain before lacing her fingers back through Fenris’. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go home.”  


They began to walk and Fenris struggled to find the words to verbalize what lay in his heart. How was it that they had such a close network of friends, people who Hawke clearly loved and trusted, and yet she wasn’t talking to any of them? He knew that he was generally considered to be taciturn by their friends, but he had sought help and advice during his darkest moments. Why couldn’t Hawke ask them for help when she was so plainly hurting?  


“Hawke,” he began. “I hope that you know what Aveline said applies for me as well. You can always talk to me as well.”  


She squeezed his hand, but his heart immediately fell when she shook her head. “What’s the point?” she asked. “Talking won’t change that Kirkwall is moving closer and closer to something awful. You can feel it in the air.”  


Fenris would have liked to disagree with her, but he couldn’t and they both knew it. “Perhaps,” he said, rather than arguing. “But you need not face that certainty alone.” He gently tugged her hand, pulling her to a halt and taking her into his arms. “I remain at your side, Hawke,” he said and then kissed her gently. He felt her tense and pulled back, his heart sinking.  


“Thank you,” she said, reaching up and cupping his cheek. She looked up at him and the sadness in her eyes made him ache. “I love you, Fenris,” she said, tilting her face up, her eyes searching his. “I’m sorry that I’ve been...distant lately. I’m struggling and I don’t want to pull you down with me.”  


“You won’t,” he said immediately. “I will keep you afloat, instead.”  


“That’s not your job though,” Hawke said.  


Fenris leaned his forehead against hers and held her to himself tightly. “I cannot have you sinking,” he said. “What we share aside, Hawke, you are my friend before anything else. I want you to feel you can confide in me.”  


“I do,” Hawke said, her voice somewhat muffled against his chest. “I do, Fenris. I just…” she took a deep breath and pulled back, her palms flat against his chest. “I know that you have come to trust me and my magic, but that you still feel more or less the same about magic as you always have,” she said, staring straight ahead of him at his chest. “If it does come to out and out conflict...I would understand if you felt the need to side with the Templars.”  


Fenris recoiled as though he’d been slapped, staring down at her with his mouth falling open. Surely she could not think so little of him?  


Her arms dropped and she grabbed the elbow of her left arm with her right hand, looking down at the ground. “I would not ask you to fight for a cause you do not support,” she said.  


“I support _you_ ,” Fenris said firmly. “If what you speak of were to happen, how could I stand against you, Hawke? How could I side with the people who would surely seek to punish you and take you away from me?” He shook his head. “No. Whatever reservations I have regarding mages and magic, they cease to be relevant when your safety comes into question.” He stepped forward and took her in his arms once again and this time he felt her relax slightly against him. “I love _you_ ,” he said. “Your fight is mine, Hawke. Your cause, my cause.”  


“I love you too,” she said, her voice sounding thick with tears. “So much, Fenris. I just can’t bear the thought of you regretting-”  


“I never could,” Fenris said, leaning down and kissing her again. She kissed him back hard, pressing her body against him as she flung her arms around his neck. He was alarmed by the fact that she was shaking, and he folded her tenderly in his arms. “Come,” he said softly against her lips. “Let’s go home, Kadan.”  


She nodded and slid away from him, taking his hand once again. They began to walk and Fenris felt his heart grow a little lighter. He felt closer to her than he had in several weeks. He squeezed her hand, hoping that she had taken his words to heart. Come what may, he would remain at her side.

####

 _Varric was standing with his back to her when she entered his quarters in the Hanged Man._  


_“Varric?” she asked, shutting the door behind herself._  


_“I just need to hear the song again,” he said, not turning around. “Just for a moment.”_  


_She frowned and took a step forward. “Varric?”_  


_“You’ll help me, won’t you?” he asked, sounding desperate. “Help me find it again?”_  


_“What are you talking about?” Hawke asked, approaching him slowly. She rested her hand on his shoulder and turning him to look at her. She let out a little scream when her eyes met unearthly red glowing ones instead of his usual gray. There was an odd echo to his voice as he spoke. “I know...I know I don’t deserve it.”_  


_“Maker!” Hawke gasped._  


_Varric held up the piece of the relic - how had he gotten it from her? “What have I done?” he asked, bringing the shard to his lips. “What have I done? Make it stop.”_  


_Hawke took a step back and Varric reached for her. “Please...don’t leave me like this.”_  


_“This isn’t real,” Hawke said, shaking her head and throttling down her panic. “It isn’t real. I took the shard and gave it to Sandal.”_  


_“Please,” her best friend begged. “Don’t let House Tethras fall like this…”_  


_Hawke clenched her eyes shut. Bartrand, she was remembering how they found him, that was all._  


_“Hawke...it hurts.”_  


_She could feel the tears on her face. “Stop it,” she growled, swiping them away with hands that shook. “Fuck off, Rage.”_  


_Silence greeted her and Saoirse hazarded opening her eyes. There, lying on the floor in front of her in the fetal position was Varric. There was a puddle of drool on the floor under his lips and his red eyes were unseeing as he shivered and whimpered at her feet. The front of his trousers was soaked with urine and his hair was matted and streaked with filth._  


_“Said you’d protect me,” Varric whimpered. “It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts.”_  


_“Stop,” Hawke whispered._  


_The unearthly red eyes found her and Varric reached for her with a hand that shook. “Help me find it,” he begged. “I know I don’t deserve it, I know, I know...what have I done?” His hand clutched at her and Hawke twitched away from him._  


_“This isn't’ real,” she said. “It isn’t. He doesn’t have the shard, he doesn’t-”_  


_“Atrast tunsha,” he said, lurching up to all fours and beginning to crawl towards her with the unearthly grace of a spider. “Totarnia amgetol tavash aeduc.”_  


_Hawke let out a sob at the dwarven words for the dead. “Varric, no-”_  


_“Atrast tunsha, atrast tunsha you are going to get me killed, Sweetheart. Atrast tunsha…”_  


_Hawke’s back hit something solid and she turned to see the gallows once again. Varric hung from them, the red eyes still glow. “Atrast tunsha, Sweetheart. Atrast tunsha. Festis bei umo canavarum.” And then there was Fenris hanging in Varric’s place, his eyes glowing the same eerie red. “Atrast tunsha. Festis bei umo canavarum.” His voice and Varric’s voice blended together and Hawke shut her eyes tight, sobbing as she sank down to her knees next to the gallows._  


_“Hawke?” she felt a hand on her shoulder and she swatted at it, only to find her wrist captured in a grip like steel. “Hawke, it’s Fenris. You need to wake up.”_  


_Her eyes fluttered open and Fenris was crouching in front of her, his full lips curled into the sweet smile that she loved so much. “It’s all right, Kadan,” he said, reaching out to touch her cheek. Instantly his expression changed from love and tenderness to fear and revulsion as his tattoos began to glow. The glow became brighter and brighter and Fenris began to scream, a broken, high-pitched wail that pierced her brain like an arrow. She could do nothing as his body began to burn, disintegrating in front of her as Varric, still hanging from the gallows, began to laugh._  


_**I will get you in the end.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to cover Best Served Cold and from there onto endgame. Thank you guys for sticking with me, despite the slow down in my chapter production. I promise TWYF is still very much in progress. Chapter 39 will be up by the end of the month at the latest and it's my goal to finish the events of DA2 within the next month. I'm excited to start some of the stuff with Inquisition and after as well. Please take care and be well and feel free to let me know if you have any thoughts!


	39. A Time Has Come for Battle Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The simmering tensions finally come to a head in Kirkwall. Hawke and her friends will never be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, SPOILERS FOR THE LAST STRAW**
> 
> The title is from the song "Enchanters" that Maryden sings. I know that it's a bit out of continuity but it felt appropriate.
> 
> "Enchanters!  
> A time has come for battle lines.  
> We will cut these knotted ties,  
> And some may live and some may die."

Varric was staring into his fireplace and sipping some whisky when there was a knock at his door.  


“Varric?”  


For a moment he considered not answering Saoirse. Even now, a week later, he thought that sometimes he could still hear the Idol singing to him. Still, he had behaved like an ass at Bartrand’s mansion and the prospect of looking up into her eyes made him squirm a little on the inside. When had he gotten so stupid and proud?  


“Varric, I know that you’re in there. Can we talk?”  


Varric sighed and rose, hurrying over to the door and letting her in. His heart broke at the deep bags under her eyes. “Hey, Sweetheart,” he said, shutting the door behind her.  


“Hey yourself,” she retorted, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been avoiding me.”  


He ran a hand through his hair, looking away from her inquiring eyes. “Listen, Hawke, I don’t know what came over me back there in Bartrand’s house.” He forced himself to smile at her. “I’m glad you’re watching my back.” They both knew that there was a “thank you” implied there and he was grateful she didn’t make him say it.  


“You had me worried there!” Hawke said and to his deep shame he saw the worry right there in her eyes. The last thing Hawke needed was more on her mind.  


“You never have to worry about me, Hawke,” he said, reaching out and taking her hand. She snorted and he grinned up at her, feeling a little of the tension abate. “Hawke...ah, this is awkward…”  


Her eyebrow shot up again. “You, at a loss for words, I should mark this day on my calendar.”  


“Enjoy this while it lasts,” he retorted. “It might never happen again.” The words came surprisingly hard now, even though they both knew exactly what they meant to each other. He took hold of her other hand and clasped them both. “I just want to say...it’s been an honor knowing you.”  


There.  


He had said the thing.  


And he felt like an ass.  


“Are you about to die?” Hawke asked mildly. “Am I? Why so serious all of a sudden?”  


He grinned at her and squeezed her hands and was rewarded by an answering smile. “Don’t panic, Sweetheart. I just needed to get that off my chest.” _Before Kirkwall explodes and I lose you again._ He tried to shake the dark thought from his head as he continued. “You know it’s six years, today?”  


She let out a quiet sound and pulled him in for a hug. “Oh, Varric.”  


He clasped her to himself tightly. “Six years since I found you dragging your tail out of Bartrand’s office.” He heard her answering chuckle above him and pulled back, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Here’s to whatever comes next.”  


Maker, but he would wish that he could take that particular sentence back in a few weeks. Because what came next was bullshit.  


Utter bullshit. 

####

“We just got word, they took some lad from the Gray Wardens.”  


It had been a long time since Fenris had seen the exhaustion leave Hawke’s eyes, but he couldn’t say that he was happy to see its replacement.  


Rage.  


Even if it wasn’t the demon, rage was there, burning bright and hot and as implacable as the sun in Seheron. Hawke was staring at the Templar Keran, her knuckles white as she gripped her staff.  


“You bastards kidnapped my brother!”  


As angry as she was, Fenris was shocked that she was able to ask any questions at all, rather than just immolating the young man. But she’d gritted her teeth and forced out a few questions about who was leading Keran’s group before encouraging the young man to go to ground.  


“Let’s go,” she said, once Keran had left. “I’m not going to let them hurt Carver.”  


She had barely slowed down as they made their way to the Wounded Coast and more than once Fenris had had to jog to keep up with her. There was a manic energy radiating off of her and when they finally skidded around the corner to the little sandy clearing, Fenris felt his heart sink.  


There, lying prone on the ground, was Carver.  


For an awful moment Fenris thought he was dead and from the sharp intake of breath, so did Hawke. He saw her shoulders go horribly rigid as she stalked towards the assembled mages and templars.  


The Templar Thrask intervened immediately, but Hawke waved him off. “I will not negotiate until my brother is standing beside me.”  


“I will not harm your brother,” Thrask said and Fenris felt a little of the tension in him abate. Carver was alive at least. “I will release him the moment that I have your word that you will support us.”  


Fenris looked at the man with disgust. It was nothing short of blackmail and far more in line with the behavior he had come to expect from mages. It could not be borne. It would appear Hawke agreed, because her chin lifted in the stubborn expression he knew so well. She didn’t get a chance to speak, however, before the mage Grace began to approach Carver. It was clear she meant to kill him, and Fenris was hardly surprised when she turned on her fellows and revealed herself to be an abomination. The fight that ensued was an ugly one, but as he attacked and dodged, Fenris realized something odd. Despite remaining close to Hawke, as he generally did, he could not feel the gentle rush of healing magic that he had come to associate with their battles. And then he saw Hawke’s magic knock their enemies over and drag them to a central point that she immediately filled with fire.  


It had been so long since she had assumed an offensive role and he didn’t fail to notice the dangerous gleam in her eyes as she whirled her staff and struck again and again. Not even Varric’s yelp of pain distracted her and he was grateful that since his own bad injury on the Wounded Coast many years ago Hawke had never again been stingy with healing potions. He saw the dwarf throw one back and then give Hawke a surprised look before he fired off another round from Bianca.  


Their enemies fell before them eventually, as they tended to, and soon the young mage Alain was kneeling next to Carver using Blood Magic to release him from his magically-induced sleep.  


Fenris felt Hawke relax somewhat next to him as Carver staggered to his feet.  


“I promise, I’ll never let anything like this happen again,” Hawke said, clearly suppressing the urge to reach out to him.  


“Thank you, Sister,” Carver said, sounding exhausted. “It would seem that I am again in your debt...and your shadow.” The sting was removed somewhat from his words by the way that he smiled at Hawke, and she returned it, slinging an arm around Carver’s shoulder just as Sampson and Cullen arrived.  


Despite what they had suffered, he was unsurprised that Hawke advocated for mercy for Alain and Sampson, as well as the few mages who had surrendered. It did appear to surprise Cullen, but he agreed grudgingly to do what he could.  


“Come on, Brother,” Hawke said once the Templars had left, leading off their charges. “You look as though you could do with a hot meal.”  


“I wouldn’t say no,” Carver replied, falling into step beside Hawke as they began the long walk back to Kirkwall.  


“We should make a night of it,” Hawke said. “Get everyone together! Who knows the next time you’ll be in Kirkwall.”  


Fenris heard Carver sigh. “Why do I have a feeling I don’t have a choice?” he said, sounding amused.  


“Because you don’t,” Hawke said, sounding the most cheerful she’d sounded in awhile. She glanced back at Fenris, Varric, and Aveline. “I’m going to take my little brother home and get him cleaned up. Will you pass word on to the others? Come by around seven?”  


“Sure, Hawke,” Varric said. “I’ll let them know.”  


Hawke shot him a tired smile and strode off with Carver, leaving the three of them to walk back together.  


“Are you well, Varric?” Fenris asked, glancing down at his friend. “That was quite the hit you took.”  


“She didn’t heal you,” Aveline said, frowning ahead at Hawke. “I can’t remember the last time she didn’t heal one of us when we were wounded.”  


“I think she’s past the point of healing right now,” Varric said quietly. “I was watching her during that fight. She wanted to hurt Grace. She wanted to be the one to kill her.”  


“Yes,” Fenris agreed.  


“I’m worried about her,” Aveline said.  


“Me too, Aveline,” Varric said, rotating his shoulder with a wince. “Come on, let’s get back. Maybe a night off is what we all need.”  


The three of them resumed walking, but inwardly Fenris was focused on his worry. He remembered all too well how hollow his existence had been in the early days of his acquaintance with Hawke and their friends. Rage was no substitute for joy, or for peace. He could only hope that it didn’t take Hawke as long to realize that as it had taken him.  


Later that night, however, Fenris could almost have wondered why he had been so worried as Hawke laughed and poured another round of drinks. He noticed that she scarcely took any herself, her drinking had been slowing down since the night at Bartrand’s mansion and he couldn’t say he was sorry for it.  


“So tell me, Little Brother,” Hawke teased, plopping back down in her chair and picking up a piece of cheese. “Is there anyone special? Am I to have a sister-in-law one of these days?”  


Fenris caught the way Carver’s eyes darted over to Merril, who was happily letting Isabela feed her a grape.  


“Even if there were,” Carver retorted. “Why would I tell you? I still remember the whole Marjorie Winston fiasco.”  


Hawke groaned, scrubbing her hand over her face. “I was trying to help!”  


“Trying being the extremely operative word,” Carver said.  


“Now this I have to hear,” Varric said.  


“You were what, seventeen-”  


“Fifteen!” Hawke interrupted, holding up her hands. “In my defense, I was only fifteen, thank you very much!”  


“Fine,” Carver said. “Fifteen, and Bethany let it slip that I had a crush on one of the girls who worked in the dairy. And my big sister gets it into her head that she should go and talk to her-”  


Fenris was distracted from Carver’s increasingly animated telling of the story by the sight of Anders rising from the end of the table and skulking away. It was clear the man was trying not to be seen and he had chosen his moment well, for all attention was on Carver and Hawke, who had just yelled something about a pitchfork.  


Fenris rose and followed quietly, not wanting to disrupt the story or the easy camaraderie. He caught Anders in the entryway, taking his cloak down from the peg. “Going so early?” he asked.  


Anders stilled for a moment, then turned to look at him. “I didn’t want to interrupt. Will you tell Hawke goodnight for me?”  


“I’m sure she would tell you to stay and eat some more,” Fenris said.  


Anders smiled, but the expression was a fleeting one. “I fear that I will only cast a cloud on the gathering,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to distract Hawke from the joy of being reunited with her brother.” He shook his head. “I fear there will be few opportunities for such happiness in the coming weeks.”  


“Because of the tensions between mages and templars?” Fenris asked. “Or have you heard of something new?”  


“No,” Anders said quietly. “Nothing new. But change is in the air, Fenris. Surely you can feel it?”  


Fenris nodded, searching Anders' face. “You have not come to Diamondback in a few weeks,” he said. “You should tomorrow. Donnic was asking after you.”  


“He is a good friend,” Anders said. “As are you, Fenris.”  


Fenris blinked at the mage, surprised. It was certainly true that their acquaintance had grown much easier over the years, but to hear Anders so easily call him a friend was...odd. “I am...pleased to hear you say so,” he said. “The feeling is mutual.”  


Anders’ answering smile was sad. “Fenris, I wonder if you would do something for me?”  


Fenris inclined his head.  


“Things are only going to get harder,” the mage said. “Please do your best to keep Hawke safe. She is a good woman. I know no matter how bad things get, she will try to get involved.”  


Fenris frowned. “Anders-”  


“I must go,” Anders said. “May the Maker watch over you, Fenris.”  


And with that he swung the door open and hurried out into the gathering darkness. Fenris watched him for a moment, before shutting the door with a shake of his head and returning to Hawke. She smiled at him as he slid into his chair, but he saw the hint of a question in her eyes as she glanced at Anders’ empty spot.  


He shrugged a shoulder and shook his head and she gave a tiny nod. He was not shocked that she’d noticed the other mage’s departure, nor was he surprised that she hadn’t drawn attention to it. He was just beginning to relax again when Bodahn hurried into the dining room, a worried expression on his face.  


“Mistress, a letter has come for you,” he said. “From the Circle.”  


Instantly the room went silent as Hawke accepted the letter and looked down at it warily. “It’s from the First Enchanter,” she said, breaking the seal. Her eyes scanned it quickly and Fenris saw her swallow hard.  


“Champion,” she read in a voice that suddenly sounded hoarse. “You have proven yourself a friend to Kirkwall’s mages and it seems I must call upon you once again. Meredith has gone too far, and I will not let her madness remain unchecked. I ask that you come to the Gallows at once. Perhaps together we can stop this before there is bloodshed.” She looked up at them all, her eyes wide. “Well, shit,” she said quietly. “I guess this is it.”  


“We’re with you, Hawke,” Aveline said firmly and next to her Donnic nodded.  


“Everyone gear up and meet back here,” Hawke said, rising. “I have a feeling this is going to get worse before it gets better.”

####

 _I really hate being right all the time,_ Saoirse thought as she strode into the Gallows. She was comforted by the presence of her friends, but the sight of Orsino and Meredith facing off against each other like two snarling Mabari still made her heart pound. “Shit,” she muttered to herself. “Shit, shit, shit.” She jogged forward, interposing herself between the two leaders. “This needs to stop,” she said as firmly as she could.  


But nothing she said mattered.  


Nothing she said or did _ever_ mattered and then there was Anders walking up to them with a look in his eyes that sent a chill running down her spine.  


“The Grand Cleric cannot help you anymore!” he said, his eyes a little wild. “The time has come to act! There can be no half measures!”  


_Oh Sweet Maker,_ Hawke thought. “Anders, what have you done?” she said aloud, her heart pounding.  


“There can be no turning back.,” Anders said.  


Hawke opened her mouth to respond, to ask him to stop whatever he was planning, but then the ground shook and as she looked a column of searing red light erupted from the Chantry. As they all watched, with horror, the great building exploded before their eyes, raining debris down on the city.  


Oh Maker.  


Sweet Maker.  


_FUCK._  


“There can be no peace,” Anders said and Hawke wanted more than anything in that moment to slap him.  


Next to her, Sebastian cried out and fell to his knees and praying as Orsino turned and looked at Anders with a horrified expression on his face. “Why?” the First Enchanter breathed. “Why would you do such a thing?”  


Anders looked up at him with a mulish expression that only made Saoirse angrier. “I removed the chance of compromise,” he said. “Because there is no compromise.”  


_Certainly not now,_ Hawke thought. _Maker, the Divine is going to send an Exalted March on Kirkwall. I am going to see another place I call home burn._  


“The Grand Cleric has been slain by magic,” Meredith said and Hawke’s stomach turned at the undisguised glee in her voice. “The Chantry destroyed. As Knight Commander of Kirkwall, I hereby invoke the Rite of Annulment! Every mage in the Circle is to be executed! Immediately!”  


_How long have you waited to say those words?_ Hawke thought, her stomach sinking. _Sweet fucking Maker, we’re all going to die here. Anders, how **could** you?_  


Orsino whirled to face Meredith, his eyes wide. “The Circle didn’t even do this!” He looked over at Hawke. “Champion, you can’t let her! Help us stop this madness!”  


“And I demand you stand with us!” Meredith said, stepping forward. “Even you must see that this outrage cannot be tolerated!”  


_No, it can’t,_ Hawke thought. _But even if I were inclined to joined you now, you’d only kill me, kill us all later._  


“Why are we debating the Rite of Annulment when the monster who did this is right here?” Sebastian snarled, sounding the angriest that she’d heard him since he’d first hired her to hunt down the Flint Mercenaries. “I swear to you, I will kill him.”  


“It cannot be stopped now,” Anders said. “You have to choose.”  


Hawke was about to respond when suddenly a sickening, awful thought occurred to her. She turned to Anders, the man who she’d thought of as a friend, and tried to force her words out. “Was that...was that why you needed me to distract the Grand Cleric?” she asked, feeling the bile in her throat.  


“You were part of this?” Sebastian gasped, looking over at her. The expression on his face made her feel lower than dirt and she clenched her hands into fists, willing herself to stay calm. _I helped him do this,_ she thought with horror. _The drakestone, the sela petrae, sweet merciful maker forgive me for what I have done._  


“If you knew what I was doing, you would have felt honor-bound to stop me,” Anders said.  


“You’ve doomed us all!” Orsino said, shaking his head and inside, Hawke had to agree. Who would have any pity for the cause of mages now?  


“You were already doomed,” Anders said and Hawke gritted her teeth. “A quick death now or a slow one later. I’d rather die fighting.”  


_That wasn’t your choice to make for everyone!_ Hawke thought as she glared at him. “You may have turned everyone against the mages now,” she said aloud.  


“Was anyone ever with us?” Anders said bitterly and in her mind Hawke heard the hiss of water on embers.  


_**I will get you in the end.**_  


She swallowed hard, forcing Rage to the back of her mind. There was already one abomination among them. They didn’t need more.  


“It does not matter,” Meredith was saying. “Even if I wished to, I could not stay my hand. The people will demand blood.” _**You** demand blood,_ Hawke thought, suddenly feeling the weight of exhaustion sinking into her.  


“This won’t be easy,” she said, turning to Orsino. “But I’ll defend you.”  


“Think carefully Champion,” Meredith snarled, and Hawke saw the bloodlust in her eyes as their eyes met. “If you stand with them, you share their fate.” She could have quailed at the madness she saw there, at the rage, but then she heard Fenris’ voice behind her.  


“It is a mistake,” the man she loved said. “But I won’t abandon you.”  


She glanced back at him, her heart filling, and saw Aveline come to stand at his side.  


“I see what you’re trying to do,” Aveline said. “And my place...is with you.”  


"Thank you," she mouthed at the two of them as one by one the others added their words of encouragement. _Maker, if you have any mercy left in your heart for me, please give it instead to my friends. Please don't let them die for following me into this. Please don't let me get them killed._  


Meredith shook her head, glaring at her. “You are a fool, Champion. Kill them all!” she ordered the Templars that surrounded them as she turned and ran towards the Templar Hall. “I will rouse the rest of the Order.”  


“GO!” Orsino bellowed to the Circle mages with them. “Get to the Gallows before it’s too late!”  


The fight was brutal, but with all of her friends and Orsino at her side, it was shorter than it might have been. She was glad that she had been hoarding healing, elfroot, and regeneration potions over the past several years.  


She would not be in the role of Healer tonight.  


Tonight, tonight she would tap into the deep wellspring of fear and anger and unleash it on any Templar that got in her way. And eventually, Maker willing, Meredith herself.  


But first she had to deal with Anders.  


“There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already said to myself,” Anders said once Orsino had taken his leave to go and lead the mages in the Gallows. “I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this. This is the justice all mages have awaited.”  


Rage surged up, threatening to choke her. _This was justice? Innocents dead and every last fear about mages confirmed in one fell swoop? How the fuck is that justice?_  


“I wanted to tell you,” Anders said, his tone turning a little plaintive. “But what if you stopped me? Or worse, what if you wanted to help? I couldn’t let you do that!”  


_How fucking considerate,_ Hawke thought bitterly.  


“The world needs to see this,” Anders said, his voice resonating with certainty that put her teeth on edge. “Then we can stop pretending that the Circles are a solution.” He swallowed hard and looked down. “And if I pay for that with my life...then I pay. Perhaps then Justice will at least be free. Whatever you are going to do...just do it.” He fell silent and Hawke stood there staring at him. 

Perhaps there was a peaceful solution to the Mage/Templar conflict, but now they would never know. Her home had been taken, again, and it was all the worse because this time it was by someone she had trusted.  


_You have no one to blame but yourself,_ an ugly voice in her head told her. _You helped him. Maybe if you’d been a little smarter, a little less self-absorbed, you would have realized something was wrong._  


Maker, she had been so worried about being an abomination that she hadn’t registered what she was helping to do.  


There had been a chance, a small one, to stop Anders.  


And she’d missed it.  


It was all her fault.  


“You have to pay for what you’ve done,” she said out loud and she honestly couldn’t have said which of them she was talking to.  


“I know,” Anders said softly. He didn’t even look at her as she advanced on him. “The sooner I die, the sooner my name lives on to inspire generations.”  


She made it quick, no matter the nightmares she would wake up screaming from later, she could always tell herself that she’d given Anders a quick death. Certainly it was quicker than Meredith would have done. Or any number of other people bent on vengeance.  


Still, she would never forget how easily her extremely sharp dagger slid between his ribs. She’d never forget the quiet gasp that he’d let out, or the way that the tension had abruptly left his body. 

She’d never forget the sound his body made as it crumpled to the ground, or the clatter of the dagger as it fell from her hands to land next to him.  


She would never forget.  


But as she looked down at him, she found that Rage had abruptly left her.  


All that was left was a hollow pit and the echoing thought: _This is only the beginning._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, friends, and for reading. Next chapter I am planning on picking up immediately after the events of endgame. I'd like to get away from following the game so closely again and, well, we all know how things shake out at the end of the game. I am planning on having the story pick up just before Hawke & Co. are forced to absent themselves from Kirkwall. I hope that you are still enjoying the story! Feel free to drop me a line if you have any thoughts on how it is going.
> 
> I'm going to be real, all I can say for sure is that I will have the next chapter up within the next few weeks. Next week is the US election and I haven't been sleeping for my anxiety about it and it is making it super hard to focus on writing. I am not giving up, of course, I just don't anticipate the next 10 days or so being very productive. I have been wrong before, but I just wanted to be transparent.
> 
> I hope that you are all managing to stay as healthy (mentally and physically) as possible. All the love.


	40. Home is Behind the World Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke is forced to face the sad reality that it might be time for her to leave Kirkwall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "Mist and Shadow" from Lord of the Rings.

_The darkness was so intense that it was almost a physical weight pressing down on her. But it wasn’t the darkness of a moonless night, or a quiet chamber with the fire doused and the candles snuffed. It was the darkness of smoke and ash choking out all light, choking the lungs, obscuring all that was light and hopeful._  


_Hawke blundered through the darkness, hearing the sound of Kirkwall, her beloved home, burning around her. People screamed with agony and rage as their homes went up in flames. She heard the sound of Templar armor approaching and whirled around to face it, only to find herself face to face with Grand Cleric Elthina. She was illuminated by the eerie red glow of the Idol as she stood totally still in the center of a circle formed by the bodies of mages._  


_“The Grand Cleric has been slain by magic,” Elthina said, her kind face sad as Meredith’s words came from her mouth._  


_“I’m so sorry,” Hawke whispered. “I didn’t realize what he was going to do. I just wanted to help my friend.”_  


_“I removed the chance of compromise,” Anders said from somewhere behind her. She whirled around to look at him, her stomach sinking. He stood before her in a Circle mage’s robes, a trickle of blood the color of the idol dribbling down from his heart. “Because there is no compromise.”_  


_“It didn’t have to be this way, Anders!” Hawke said, taking a step towards him even though what she wanted to do most in the world was recoil and beg him to leave her alone. “We could have found a solution-”_  


_“Yes,” Meredith said, stepping out of the darkness, her eyes glowing eerie red. “A Tranquil solution.”_  


_And then Anders was screaming and Hawke was collapsing to her knees, her screams joining his as the Templars pinned them down and performed the Rite._  


_Hawke thrashed, struggling to escape their grasp and in her panic, threw out a fireball before their abilities could come to bear. She heard a scream and suddenly the Templars were gone and she was able to lurch to her feet in time to see the fireball consume Meredith and Elthina._  


_“The Grand Cleric has been slain by magic,” Meredith cackled. “The Grand Cleric has been slain by magic and the Champion of Kirkwall and the only solution is the Tranquil Solution.” She trailed off in fit of insane laughter that raised the gooseflesh on Hawke’s skin. Her head ached terribly where she knew the Chantry sunburst had been forever branded onto her skin but somehow, somehow she was still her and hadn’t faded away into Tranquility._  


_**I will get you in the end,** the familiar voice said and she knew that Rage was there and had turned away the Templar’s fires with its own._  


_“It cannot be stopped now,” Anders said in the horrible, emotionless voice of the Tranquil. “You have to choose.”_  


_And then her dagger was in her hands and she was approaching him just as she had that night.“There can be no peace,” she said, echoing his words back at him. “There can be no peace.”_  


_**I will get you in the end.**_  


_And then suddenly she felt the cold steel of her dagger sliding between her shoulder blades as Anders killed her just as she had killed him. “You will understand as soon as the Templars teach you to control yourself,” he said, his voice somehow emotionless and tender as he repeated Karl’s words in her ear._  


_The brand began to burn hotter as he jerked the blade from her back and let her collapse to the ground every bit as disdainfully as she had him._  


_She could only watch as he, Elthina, and Meredith approached her, appearing from the darkness like ghosts._  


_“The Grand Cleric has been slain by magic.” They spoke the words together as though they were the Chant, their eyes glowing eerily red in the darkness. “The Grand Cleric has been slain by magic.”_  


_Their eyes glowed brighter and brighter until suddenly it was as though the molten steel of a smith’s crucible was flowing from them. And then everything was flowing, their eyes dribbled from their eye sockets and down their faces. Their noses streamed like a sobbing child’s and then their noses were melting on their lips, which dissolved to show their grinning skulls beneath and then all of them was melting to the ground like a candle left on too long._  


_But they did not stay down._  


_For as Hawke watched through vision that was beginning to go black on the edges, their bodies began to congeal together, building back up and up until the horror that had been Orsino at the end stood in front of her. It took a dragging step towards her and on its gray flesh she could see all the people she had failed’s faces watching her through accusing eyes._  


_“You were a part of this,” Sebastian’s voice said from one of the mouths. “You were a part of this.”_  


_“Think carefully, Champion,” added Meredith’s voice. “If you stand with them, you share their fate.”_  


_“If you stand with them, you share their fate,” said the dull, emotionless voice of Tranquil Anders. “You share our fate. You share our fate.”_  


_“If you stand with them,” Fenris’ voice said, sounding heartbroken. “You share their fate. Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.”_  


_“I just wanted to say,” and it felt right that Varric’s voice would be the last one she ever heard. But there was no warmth in it. No love. Only bitter, sardonic amusement. “I just wanted to say, it’s been an honor knowing you, Hawke. Our Champion.”_  


_The darkness claimed her then and she welcomed it. Anything was better than hearing their voices knowing how very badly she had let them all down._

There was a time when such a nightmare would have had her lurching out of bed, gasping and startling Fenris. But this time Hawke just stared up into the darkness with tears streaming down her face. She’d had variations of the same horrible dream every night in the two weeks since Anders had ignited the powder keg that was the Mage/Templar situation. Angrily she swiped at the tears. She had no right to cry, not when so many were dead and she had been complicit in Anders actions. Without her, maybe he wouldn’t have been able to blow up the fucking chantry. If she hadn’t been so anxious about her own worries, perhaps she would have put together what he was doing.  


_And maybe if I had been faster, Bethany would still be alive._  


_And maybe if I hadn’t brought Carver to the Deep Roads, he wouldn’t be a Warden._  


_And maybe, if I had gotten there in time, I could have saved Mother._  


So many maybes. So many regrets. So much that lived in her brain and haunted her.  


So.  


Many.  


Failures.  


A knock on the bedroom door pulled her from her melancholy reflection and next to her Fenris sat upright in an instant.  


“Mistress?” Orana said outside. “Master Tethras and the Guard Captain are here to see you. Commander, that is, Knight-Captain Cullen is with them.”  


Fenris’ tattoos flared to life and he was on his feet in an instant. “What does Cullen want?” he growled before Hawke had even managed to shake off the paralyzing terror that suddenly gripped her.  


“He says he just wants to talk to Mistress,” Orana said. “That he means her no harm.”  


Her hands shaking, Hawke forced herself to rise. “Thank you, Orana,” she replied in a voice that shook. “Please tell them that I will be right down.”  


“We could go out the cellars,” Fenris said, appearing at her side. His tattoos were still glowing and they illuminated the worry on his face. “I will not let them take you, Hawke.”  


She reached up and caressed his cheek, shaking her head. “Let’s see what he wants before fleeing into the night,” she said. “I’d rather not antagonize him right now.”  


Fenris reached out and took her into his arms and she could feel the tension in his body as hugged her. “I will be at your side,” he said firmly.  


She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Now let’s go and see what Cullen wants.”  


They dressed quickly and Hawke didn’t miss the fact that Fenris strapped the Sword of Mercy to his back, his lips set in a grim line. For her part, she left her staff on the weapon stand. She had been serious when she said she didn’t want to antagonize the Knight-Captain. Besides, with Fenris, Aveline, and Varric she knew that she was as safe as she could be.  


Together they hurried downstairs where her friends stood with Cullen near Copper’s fireplace. The mabari trotted over to her and head-butted her thigh before sitting down with his body between her and Cullen. She scratched his ears absently as she looked up at the Templar. “Cullen.”  


“Champion,” Cullen said, sounding tired. “I will be brief. I am here because of the debt I feel that Kirkwall owes you.”  


Hawke raised an eyebrow and motioned for him to continue.  


“Your name is being used as a rallying cry for the mages who escaped the Circle,” Cullen said. “As well as the apostates who have always longed to see the Circles disbanded.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Which has many of the Templars saying that the wisest thing we could do is bring you in and...encourage you to publicly repudiate their actions and call for them to rejoin the Chantry.”  


“‘Encourage’ me, eh?” Hawke replied.  


Cullen nodded, his eyes not leaving hers. “They are not planning to ask gently,” he said.  


Next to her Fenris let out a snarl and took a step forward, his hand going to his sword. Hawke held out her arm, noticing that neither Aveline nor Varric had moved. “You knew,” she said to them.  


They glanced at each other before turning to her. “We had heard rumors,” Aveline said. “We approached the Knight-Captain to verify them.”  


“Cullen wanted to tell you himself,” Varric said.  


“I felt that I owed you that,” Cullen said. “I cannot advise your course of action, Champion. Indeed, I would prefer not to know so that I am not able to answer when asked about your whereabouts. But trust me when I say, it would be better for you if you were not to let my men find you here.”  


“How much time do I have?” Hawke asked, shocked at how calm she felt. She had known that something like this was coming.  


“Not long,” Cullen replied. “I will stay my brothers’ hands for as long as I can, but I cannot do so indefinitely.”  


“No,” Hawke said softly. “I understand. Thank you, Cullen.”  


He nodded. “May the Maker watch over you, Champion,” he said before giving a little bow, turning, and striding from the room.  


The four of them were silent until the door shut and then Hawke let out a long sigh, sinking down to the floor with Copper. “Well, shit,” she said, feeling the tears well in her eyes.  


“It’s all right, Hawke,” Varric said, kneeling down at her side and putting his hand on her shoulder.  


“The Guard are prepared to defend you,” Aveline said.  


“I won’t put your people at risk, Aveline,” Hawke said. She looked up at her friends, feeling the comfort of Fenris’ presence as he crouched at her side. “Too many people have come to harm because of me. I think the only choice is...is for me to leave Kirkwall for awhile, before the Templars come for me.”  


Aveline’s brow furrowed with concern. “But...where will you go?”  


“To the Castle first,” Hawke said. “Jacob has already written inviting me, inviting all of us to come out there while things settle down. The Templars would never be able to take me from there. And from there I-I can plan what to do next.”  


“I think that’s a good idea, Sweetheart,” Varric said, nodding.  


“Orana?”  


The young woman materialized from the entryway, a worried expression on her face. “Yes, Mistress?”  


“Can you please find Mrs. Marsh, as well as Bodahn and Sandal? I need to talk to everyone.”  


Orana nodded and hurried off, quickly returning with the other members of Hawke’s household.  


Hawke was back on her feet by the time Orana returned and did her best to smile reassuringly at her staff. “Knight-Captain Cullen has been to see me,” she said without preamble. “It would appear that the Templars are inclined to take me into custody. As I don’t want to end up Tranquil, or dead, the time has come for me to leave Kirkwall. Beyond closing it for now, I haven’t decided yet what I will do with the manor, but I do know that I don’t want you all to be here when the Templars come.” Her throat grew tight as she looked at the loyal members of her household, who had been with her through so much.  


“We won’t leave you, missere,” Bodahn said and next to him Sandal nodded enthusiastically.  


“I’m afraid you must,” Hawke said, her lips wobbling as she smiled at him. “You always talked about wanting to go to Orlais, Bodahn, to expand your business. I think now would be a great time. Orana, Jaccob’s invited you to come and live at the Castle with Neriel, and Mrs. Marsh, I know that your daughter has written to you many times inviting you to come and live with them.”  


Mrs. Marsh smiled a little sadly. “I would so love to see my grandchildren more,” she said. “But I shouldn’t like to be a burden on Agnes.”  


“You won’t be,” Hawke said firmly. “Because I have money set aside for all of you. It was intended to be in the event of my death, but as closing the house leaves you as much without employment as if I died, well, it seems like as good a time as any.”  


Mrs. Marsh brought her hand to her lips, her kind eyes going wide. “Oh my lady, I couldn’t-”  


“You can, and you will,” Hawke said firmly. “All of you. Please let me do this for you to thank you for all of your years of loyal service. It would be such a comfort to me to know that you’re all looked after.”  


Her staff were quiet for a long moment and to her surprise, it was Orana who spoke first. “You do us a great kindness, my Lady,” she said. “We are honored to accept it.”  


“You only ever need to call for us, missere,” Bodahn said, startling her by dropping to one knee and bowing his head. “We will be here in a trice.”  


Sandal stepped forward instead of kneeling, his pale eyes fixed on hers as his heavy brow furrowed. He reached into his pocket and took her hand, placing a heavy rune on her palm. “Enchantment,” he said seriously.  


“Thank you,” Hawke whispered. “Thank all of you, for-for everything.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and forced herself to give them a smile that was braver than she felt. “Please go and gather your things. We’ll arrange transport for all of you.”  


Mrs. Marsh hurried forward and caught Hawke in a tight hug, bringing with her the scent of cinnamon. “You always were such a kind gel,” she said, giving Hawke a kiss on the cheek. “I know that your mother would be proud.” She wiped her eyes with her apron and hurried off towards the servants quarters, followed by Bodahn and Sandal. Orana reached out and squeezed Hawke’s hand before following, leaving Hawke alone with her friends and Copper.  


“That was a kind thing you did, Hawke,” Aveline said quietly. “We’ll make sure that they all get away safely.”  


“I’ll send a raven to Jacob and ask him to send down the carriage,” Varric said. “Then I’ll go and talk to the others, ask them to meet us at the Castle.” He put a hand on Hawke’s shoulder. “Everything is going to be all right, Sweetheart,” he said.  


“I don’t see how it can,” Hawke said sadly. “But thanks just the same.” She looked around the Main Hall, feeling the warmth of tears trickling down her face. “I suppose I should go pack,” she said with false brightness. “Before the Templars...before…” words failed her and she found herself folded into Fenris’ arms as the tears overtook her. “Fuck!”  


“I am sorry, Hawke,” Fenris said gently.  


She pushed back, angrily swiping at the tears. “I can’t break down,” she gritted out. “Not now. I have to get packed, I have to get to Jacob before the Templars show up and drag me to the Circle.” She shivered, thinking of Alrik and Ludolf. The things that they would surely do to her if they caught her were too awful to contemplate.  


“Let us go and pack then,” Fenris said. “And be on our way. I will not let them have you.”  


She did her best to smile at him before they hurried up to her quarters and began to pack. Simple clothes, her box of keepsakes, her armor, her staff, it was amazing how with all the things she had, so little of it was truly important. Soon all that she would take with her was compressed down to a chest and a rucksack. Inside the chest, beneath a false bottom, was all of the gold that she kept at the estate. It represented a mere fraction of her wealth, but it was good to have some money with her. More lay in pouches at her waist, as well as in her rucksack,  


“Do you have everything?” Fenris asked, locking his own chest and shouldering his rucksack. His own chest and rucksack had stores of gold in them as well, though it had taken some convincing to get him to let her put it there. His pragmatism had won out in the end, but she still saw the worry in his eyes.  


“Almost,” Hawke said, crossing to her nightstand. She opened the little drawer and pulled out a familiar red book. She held it up so that Fenris could see “The Canticle of Esmerelda,” in its gold filigree on the side. The elf gave her a sad smile as she tucked the book into her rucksack and nodded.  


“All right,” she said. “Let’s go.”  


Together they went downstairs and Fenris turned towards the kitchens where they would meet Jacob’s carriage in the kitchen courtyard as opposed to the front entrance at Varric’s suggestion. Hawke paused and Fenris gave her a questioning look over his shoulder. “I just...need a minute,” she said.  


Fenris gave her an understanding look and nodded, ghosting off into the kitchens as Copper came to stand by her side.  


“I’m sorry to do this to you again, boy,” she said softly, resting her hand on his head.  


Copper leaned against her with a sigh.  


“We fought so hard for this, to have a home again, and now...now we’re leaving it all behind.” Her throat tightened as she glanced up towards her mother’s room. She was glad that she had interred Leandra’s ashes with her parents. “At least Mother will be able to stay,” she said.  


Copper let out a little whine and Hawke nodded. “I miss her too,” she said. “But I can’t say I’m sorry that she didn’t live to see...this.”  


She squared her shoulders and took one last look around her home, vowing to herself that she would see it again one day. She gave Copper a final pat and strode off to the kitchens, forcing herself not to look back.  


_I will come home again, one day._

****

“Saoirse!”  


Hawke smiled up at Jacob as he folded her in his arms out on the front stairs of the Fucking Castle. The carriage ride with Fenris, Varric, and Orana had been a mostly silent one save for the squeaking of the springs and rumbling of the wheels. They had packed up faster than she would have imagined, but the spectre of the Templars had loomed large over all of them, speeding them along. They had made it out of the city unmolested, and Hawke thought that was in part due to Jacob sending Dylan down with the plain carriage that the servants used for their business in town, rather than Jacob’s formal one. It had pulled into her stableyard at the back of the carriage and Dylan and Mazin had loaded up all the luggage with efficiency that bordered on military. She was fairly certain that no one had seen her go.  


“Jacob,” Hawke replied, hugging him tightly. “Did the others make it ok?”  


He stepped back and put his hands on her shoulders. “They did,” he assured her. “You are all safe, and I have sent word to my estate back in Ferelden that they may expect visitors as well, if you so choose.”  


Hawke felt her throat grow tight again as tears threatened to tumble once more from her eyes. “Thank you,” she managed to whisper.  


“Come inside,” Jacob said. “You look half frozen. Orla will be so happy to see you, she’s missed your rides.” He reached his hand out to Fenris. “I’m glad that you are safe, Fenris,” he said. “I will not pretend that it hasn’t been a comfort knowing that you were at Saoirse’s side protecting her.”  


“As I ever shall be,” Fenris said, shaking Jacob’s hand.  


“Come,” Jacob said. “Mrs. Rush has outdone herself ahead of your visit.”  


Hawke felt Fenris’ arm go around her waist and leaned against him as they made their way into the Great Hall. Inside she saw all of her friends seated at a trestle table that was all but groaning under the weight of a huge spread.  


Sebastian rose upon seeing her, quickly followed by Isabela who launched herself at Hawke and gave her a tight hug.  


“Those Templar bastards!” Isabela said, the scent of her perfume enveloping Hawke as tightly as her embrace. “Let me pour you a drink, Hawke.”  


“Thanks, ‘Bela,” Hawke said, sinking down onto the bench as Copper gave himself a good shake and plopped down by the fire.  


“Aveline said that Cullen warned you,” Sebastian said.  


“He’s not so bad, for a Templar,” Merrill said.  


“He did,” Hawke said, accepting the glass of wine from Isabela. “Which is why I asked you all to meet me here. I didn’t want to stay at the house any longer than I had to.” She took a deep breath. “I have closed the estate,” she said, forcing the words out quickly before she could cry anymore. She thought she’d gotten the bulk of her tears out during the carriage ride over, but more threatened. “I am leaving Kirkwall.”  


Merrill’s eyes widened. “Leaving?” she said.  


Hawke nodded, dropping her eyes so that she wouldn’t have to look at her friends. Originally she had thought to come to the castle and stay for a few weeks, let things die down, before moving back. But hearing Cullen’s words and thinking of the rage she’d seen in the Templars, thinking of men like Alrik and Ludolf…she was not sure that simple distance was enough. She needed to disappear.  


“The Templars will come for me eventually,” she said. Aveline opened her mouth, but Hawke held up a hand. “I know that I can rely on any of you to protect me,” she said, smiling sadly up at Jacob, who looked shocked. “I know that, but I can’t risk your lives that way. I will stay here for a little while and then...I will go.”  


“We could go with you,” Merrill said. “You’d be so lonely by yourself, Hawke.”  


“Your work is here, Merrill,” Hawke said. “You’re doing good things in the Alienage. They need you. And Merrill needs you, ‘Bela,” Hawke said, smiling at the pirate. “And Kirkwall needs someone to help rebuild the Chantry, to make it kinder and better,” she said to Sebastian. “And it needs its Guard-Captain, and the only dwarf who can bully the merchant’s guild into helping. And-”  


“And you need me,” Fenris said, cutting her off. “I agree with your assessment about the others, but you need me, Hawke. You will not be safe on your own.”  


“The broody elf is right,” Varric said and Hawke hated the stricken expression on his face as he realized that within the coming weeks they would be saying goodbye, perhaps for good.  


“Fenris-”  


“Fenris goes, or we all do,” Aveline said firmly.  


“Damn right,” Isabela said.  


As Hawke looked around at them, seeing the stubbornness in their expressions, she knew that she was out-voted. They would never let her leave alone. If she was to accomplish it, she would have to sneak out without Fenris knowing. It would be a challenge, but Jacob had fast horses and she knew that if she asked him, he would help distract Fenris.  


“For what my opinion is worth,” Jacob chimed in. “I would also feel more comfortable if Fenris accompanied you.”  


Hawke felt Fenris’ fingers twine through hers and a knot of tension suddenly released from around her heart. The bond they all shared was a balm to her heart, even as she prepared to leave it behind. 

“You’re all impossible,” Hawke said.  


“We learned from the best,” Sebastian said with a boyish smile.  


“Fine,” Hawke lied. “Fenris will come with me.”  


“As if you had a choice,” Fenris murmured in her ear, giving her hand a squeeze.  


Hawke took a deep breath that shook and raised her glass. “To dear friends,” she said. “And to the ones we have lost.”  


The others raised their glasses and drank and under the circumstances, it was as quiet and pleasant a night as she could have asked for. However, she knew from the way that Varric was avoiding her eyes that that wasn’t going to last. Sure enough, when they had sated themselves on Mrs. Marsh’s fine food and the group had dispersed to their rooms, her door swung open almost as soon as she had shut it.  


“You’re leaving?” Varric said, stumping over to where she had flopped down in a chair in front of the fire. Fenris looked up from where he was polishing the Sword of Mercy, one eyebrow raised.  


“Would you like me to step out?” he asked.  


“Did you know?” Varric asked, rounding on him.  


Fenris shook his head. “I am not surprised,” he said. “But no, we had not discussed it.”  


“Saoirse,” Varric said, turning back to her. “You can’t really be meaning to leave without me.”  


“I am,” Hawke said. “I will.”  


“The _fuck you will_ ,” Varric growled. “I-”  


“You are the only person who can needle the right people into getting this city rebuilt,” Hawke said. “Varric, I want to come back to Kirkwall one day, but I can’t if there’s no Kirkwall to come back to!”  


“Someone else-”  


“No one else has your connections,” Hawke said, despite what it cost her. If she was honest, all she wanted was to keep Varric with her. He was as much a part of her heart as Fenris and the thought of not seeing him every day filled her chest with panicky tightness that she had to fight to quell. “No one else can do this, Varric.” She forced herself to give him a lopsided smile. “Besides, someone has to manage all that money we made. That’s hard to do on the road.”  


Varric didn’t smile back. “We both know false modesty isn’t my thing,” he gritted out. “I don’t think you’re wrong that I can get Kirkwall back on track.” His gray eyes met hers and she hated the tears that she saw in them. “But we also both know that this isn’t about Kirkwall. Not really.”  


“I don’t-”  


“If you are going to ask me to leave your side after six years, you are going to be honest with me,” Varric cut her off. “This is about Anders. About your mother. This is about your fear, Hawke!” His powerful hands were clenched into fists at his side as he looked up at her, his voice rising.  


“Varric-”  


“Don’t ‘Varric’ me,” he growled. “I know you, Hawke. I _know_ you. If Broody would let you, you’d leave him behind too!”  


Fenris’ head shot up and Hawke dropped her eyes, unable to look at either of them.  


“Yeah,” Varric said. “I’d keep an eye on her, Broody, because in the headspace she’s in right now, I wouldn’t put it past her to sneak out of here during the night and leave us all behind.”  


Hawke glanced up at him before she could stop herself and saw his thick eyebrows go up almost to his hairline. “Fucking Maker, Hawke,” he breathed. “That’s your plan, isn’t it?”  


“No,” Hawke mumbled, looking down at her hands.  


She heard his heavy footsteps and then he was kneeling in front of her, his thick fingers tilting her chin up. “Don’t lie to me,” he said softly. “You suck at it.”  


“Hawke?” Fenris’ voice was tense and she heard his soft footsteps as he came to stand next to her chair. “Is he right?”  


_Fuck me,_ Hawke thought. “You two need each other,” she said, unable to look at either of them. “And you would be better off without me. Safer without me. Why can’t you both just let me go?”  


“Because we love you,” Varric said, his voice rough.  


“I love you both too!” Hawke said desperately. “Which is why I want you to stay! To keep each other safe.”  


“No,” Fenris said simply.  


“Everything I touch turns to ash,” Hawke said in a ragged whisper. “I’ve lost my home twice, my family, I-I killed Anders-” and she heard the soft sound he made as she thrust the dagger into his back. Saw him fall to the ground. “Fuck, I _killed_ him.” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m a monster,” she said as the tears came again. “I’m a monster and everything I touch _dies_ and I can’t add the two of you to the list I just fucking can’t!” She lurched to her feet, shoving past the two of them and beginning to pace. “You both have to let me go so I can-”  


“Can _what?_ ” Varric growled, rising with a wince and putting himself in her path. “So you can go off and get yourself killed as some sort of perverse self-flagellation for the things that you can’t control?”  


“And if I did?” Hawke snapped. “If I did get myself killed somewhere far away from here, what then, Varric? You wouldn’t get dragged on anymore insane missions, you wouldn’t have to wonder when you were going to get dragged before the Templars because of your association with the ‘Champion of Kirkwall’. You wouldn’t have to waste anymore time or energy worrying about me. You’d finally be fucking free.”  


The room was silent for a moment but for the crackling of the fire and when he spoke it was so quiet that Hawke almost missed it.  


“Would you be free if I died?”  


Hawke felt her mouth fall open as she met Varric’s eyes.  


“Well?” he pressed, taking a step towards her. “Would you be free if I died, Hawke? I know you worry about me like you do all of our friends. Would you feel better if I was just gone and you never had to spare a thought for me again?”  


She took a lurching step towards him, a hysterical sob bubbling out of her mouth at the thought of him lying at her feet as Anders had, his warm eyes forever glazed over with death. Varric held his ground, though his eyes had begun to stream.  


“Well?” he gritted out. “Would you be free?”  


“I’d be broken!” Hawke sobbed. “Broken. Forever. Fuck, Varric I can’t fucking lose you too! Don’t you understand? I can’t lose you, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I-”  


His arms were around her in an instant and she hugged him back, bawling like a child as he stroked her back.  


“I’d be just as broken, Sweetheart,” he rasped. “I need you to understand that if I lost you, it would break my heart in the kind of way that you just don’t recover from. That’s why I want to go with you. My place is at your side every bit as much as Fenris’ is.”  


“I _want_ you with me,” Hawke admitted as the tears trickled down and darkened the fabric of his doublet. “More than I can tell you. But you can’t, Varric. I meant what I said about Kirkwall needing you.”  


“What about what _I_ need?” Varric rumbled, tightening his arms. “I need to know that you are safe, Saoirse. How can I know if I’m not there at your side?” He pulled back slightly and gave her a lopsided smile. “It’s hard to be the trusty dwarven sidekick from hundreds of miles away.”  


“I’ll write,” Hawke promised.  


Varric snorted. “You mean _Fenris_ will write,” he said. “You suck at writing letters, Hawke.”  


She let out a rusty chuckle and hugged him again. “Please stay and help our city,” she asked. “So that I know that you’re safe. So that I know that there’s a city to come home to. Do what you’re best at and heal this place.” She leaned her head against his. “And invest my money so that we can both retire like kings one day.”  


Varric pulled back and gripped her upper arms, his kind eyes intent on hers. “I _hate_ this,” he said. “I hate that I’m considering it.”  


“But you _are_ considering it?”  


Varric sighed and released her, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I don’t think you’re wrong about my ability to help Kirkwall,” he said after a moment. “But I hate the idea of you going off without me.”  


“She will not be alone,” Fenris said, taking a step forward from where he had been watching their conversation unfold by the fireplace. He raised a dark eyebrow. “You are a fool if you think that you can abandon me like some hapless debutante at her first ball,” he said.  


Hawke snorted at his comparison and was rewarded with a smile from him and a half smile from Varric.  


“I’m going to sleep on it,” Varric said finally. “As long as you promise me that you’ll be here when I wake up.”  


“I promise,” Hawke said, and meant it.  


Varric’s eyes searched hers for a long moment before he wrapped her up in another bone-crushing hug and kissed her cheek. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but shook his head after a moment. “Goodnight, Sweetheart,” he said finally, giving her hands a tight squeeze.  


“Goodnight, Varric,” she replied, squeezing back.  


Varric smiled a little sadly and took his leave, and for a moment the room was silent.  


“Were you really planning on sneaking out during the night?” Fenris asked, his arms circling around her waist from behind.  


“I’m sorry,” Hawke said, grateful that she didn’t have to look at him.  


She felt his chin on her shoulder and his lips just behind her ear. “You needn’t be,” Fenris said and to her shock she could hear mild amusement in his voice. “When have you ever been able to get out of bed without waking me up?”  


She snorted and turned to face him, her eyes searching his. “You aren’t angry?”  


He sighed and pulled her into a tight embrace. “It worries me that you would want to leave me behind,” he said after a minute or two of silence. “Because I agree with Varric’s assessment of your motives. I do not want you to take unnecessary risks out of fear for my safety.”  


“I just don’t want to fail anyone else,” Hawke said miserably. “Least of all you two. The thought of something happening to you because of me…”  


“That is a risk that one takes in having friendships,” Fenris said. “Something you told me once. Trust us to know the risks, as you do.”  


“No fair using my words against me,” Hawke said with a tired smile.  


Fenris smiled back and the expression was so warm and sweet that she had to rise up on her tiptoes and kiss him. The kiss was a languid one, so tender and sweet that she felt the tears begin to trickle down her face again. Fenris wiped them away with his thumbs and leaned his forehead against hers. “We will get through this, Hawke,” he said, the low rumble of his voice soothing her frayed nerves. “There is nothing that we cannot face, so long as we do it together.” Then, before she could protest, he scooped her up and carried her to the bed. 

Something clattered from her pocket to the floor and once he’d set her down gently, he leaned down and picked it up. He held it out to her and Hawke took it, looking down at the familiar carved stone. “Sandal’s gift,” she said quietly, tracing her fingers over the intricate lines. “A Rune of Protection.” She wrapped her hand around it, closing her eyes. 

Maker alone knew that she needed all the help she could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for bearing with me this far, friends! We are officially post endgame and headed into the couple of years before Inquisition! I am not entirely certain how many chapters will cover this time, so I'm probably going to do a little free writing for awhile and see where things go. As best as I can tell from the timelines I have found online, there's roughly four years between the end of DA2 and the beginning of Inquisition, which is a fair bit of time to cover. I'm guessing I'll have a couple of chapters that give us little windows into that time period before we have to deal with the inevitable sadness of Hawke somehow managing to join the Inquisition without Fenris at her side. It's going to be a ride for sure, but I am excited to get to do some work in this world that is less constrained by game events.
> 
> I think the one chapter every two weeks is likely to be my pacing for awhile (though I have some time off coming in a few weeks, so maybe I'll get a little ahead), so I should be seeing you all around the 23rd. Thank you all for sticking with me, as well as your patience as my output has slowed down. I hope very much that you are all still enjoying. Hopefully now that the US election is over my brain will be able to focus a little bit easier on writing. As always, feel free to drop me a line if you have any thoughts! 
> 
> Please be safe and well!  
> <3


	41. We Shall Merry Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and her friends enjoy a brief respite at the Fucking Castle before the inevitable parting must happen.

Fenris took a deep breath and pressed his palms together, leaning his fingertips against his forehead as he finished the last complicated stretch of “Celebrating the Sun”, the most complicated of the 

“Greet the Sun” routine he had learned from Ayara. They had been at the Castle for a little over a week and he was feeling...restless. Hawke was getting edgier every day and while she’d promised that she wouldn’t leave without him, he still worried. To his right he heard soft footsteps, but he recognized the slightly uneven gait and held his pose. It was only Jacob.  


“I hadn’t figured you for a religious man,” Jacob said from his right.  


“I am not,” Fenris said after a moment, lowering his hands. “It is part of a routine I do every morning to stretch and wake up. I learned it in Seheron.”  


Jacob cocked his head, one of his dark eyebrows raising. “I should have you teach me,” he said, holding out a mug that steamed. “Tea?”  


Fenris accepted the mug and cupped it in both hands, letting its warmth thaw his fingers. The “Greet the Sun” routine required that one be somewhere one could actually see the sun, and he had chosen to come up onto the battlements that morning to clear his head. The morning chill spoke of seasons preparing to turn again. “Thank you,” he said.  


Jacob nodded and the two were quiet for a moment.  


“Thank you also for opening your home to us, Jacob,” Fenris said, looking out across the paddocks where Jacob’s horses would soon be roaming.  


“Hawke is my friend,” Jacob said firmly. He hesitated. “As are you.”  


Fenris blinked up at the older man, who spared him a boyish smile.  


“Surprised to hear me say it?” Jacob asked, taking a sip of his tea.  


“Frankly...yes,” Fenris said. “All things considered.”  


“Fair,” Jacob said, setting his mug down on the wall and resting his hands on his hips. “Fenris, I won’t do you the disservice of pretending that I know you particularly well, but one need only look at your skin to know that you have suffered at the hands of mages.” His expression was a kind one. “And I saw you when we got you back from your former master. You have more cause than most to hate mages. But Hawke tells me that you stood at her side without hesitation against Meredith and her Templars. You risked your life for mage freedom. For Hawke and her freedom. Hawke is the dearest friend I have made in many years and that you would do that for her, after all you have suffered, I cannot but admire you and call you friend.” He shrugged a shoulder and picked up his mug. “Assuming, of course, that you will have me.” The boyish smile returned. “All things considered.”  


“Assuming of course that this is not some elaborate ruse that ends in you pitching me off of the battlements,” Fenris said, feeling his lips quirk at the odd turn of events. “Then I think the honor is mine.”  


Jacob chuckled, shaking his head. “I will not do myself or Saoirse the disservice of pretending my feelings for her were not real,” he said quietly. “But our time apart has broadened my perspective.”  


“Oh?” Fenris said, glancing down at motion below. He saw Hawke and Orla, Hawke on a massive gray mare and Orla riding next to her on a filly who bobbed her head excitedly and broke into a trot before Orla reined her in.  


“Moonsong,” Jacob said, smiling down at the filly proudly. “She’s Warmeadow’s first. She’s to be a destrier.”  


“She looks the part,” Fenris said. “Both of them look like they could take on a battalion.” He watched the other man, noting the contented smile that played about Jacob’s lips.  


“You know about my past,” Jacob said, his eyes not leaving the little group below.  


“The parts that are common knowledge, yes,” Fenris said.  


“Then you know that I know what it is to lose everything,” Jacob said.  


“Yes,” Fenris said.  


Jacob shook his head sadly. “Hawke is...likely going to lose, if not everything, quite a lot. She has closed up her home, let go her people. She is going to leave Kirkwall, maybe never to return.” He shot the pair on horseback a sad smile. “If we had remained together, I would have gone with her, to protect her when she left...but I am...older than all of you. I have had time to come to know myself, and I am self-aware enough to admit that I would have ended up resenting her for it.” He rested on hand on the battlement walls. “This is my home,” he said. “I have fought for it, built it from nothing. I have people here I need to protect. I want to live out my days here. A life with Saoirse never would have been...this. We were ill-suited in the ways that truly matter.” He glanced over at Fenris. “But you, Fenris...she is your home.”  


“She is,” Fenris said, watching as Hawke nudged her horse into a canter. “My home. My heart.”  


“She never would have been that for me,” Jacob said and there was a touch of sadness to his words.  


They lapsed into silence for a few moments before Jacob spoke again. “How is she?” he asked, his eyes on her and Orla as they cantered through the fields.  


Fenris sighed and took a sip of his tea. “She is struggling,” he said. “She is carrying a great deal of guilt.”  


“She feels she should have seen Anders’ plan coming?” Jacob asked.  


“That,” Fenris said, nodding. “But also his death. That she was the one to kill him is going to weigh on her for a long time, if not forever.”  


“How do you feel about it?” Jacob asked, his dark eyes finding Fenris’.  


_How do I feel about it?_ Fenris thought to himself. “Conflicted,” he said aloud. “Much to my surprise. Anders had come to be a close acquaintance...perhaps even a friend, something that I never thought that I would say. So...I am sorry that the man who was my friend is dead, and that the woman I love was the one who had to kill him.”  


“But you think he deserved to die,” Jacob said.  


“Yes,” Fenris said. “Though, I do not think it is as simple as that.”  


Jacob motioned for him to continue and Fenris sighed, trying to pull his thoughts together. He was not accustomed to working through his feelings out loud with anyone but Hawke. “I think, given the choice, I would have made him work to help mend things,” Fenris said finally. “He owed Kirkwall, he owed us, he owed _Hawke_ that much.” He shook his head. “I think he got off too easily. But I know that Sebastian weighed on her decision too.”  


“Sebastian?”  


“He was very close to Elthina,” Fenris explained. “And took the attack on the Chantry very personally. He would have gone to Starkhaven and raised an army to bring down on Kirkwall had Anders been allowed to live.”  


Jacob whistled softly. “Maker,” he said. “No wonder Saoirse felt compelled to act.”  


“Yes,” Fenris said, watching her and Orla nudge their horses into a gallop. He thought he heard Hawke let out a happy whoop and smiled. She deserved to find joy where she could. “Though I fear she will punish herself for it forever.” But at least I will be at her side, he thought. He and Varric had finally brought her around to bringing him with her and he was at least reasonably certain that she wasn’t just going to vanish one night. He sighed and took a sip of his tea. The warmth travelled down his throat and pooled in his stomach and he glanced at Jacob. “This is quite good,” he said.  


The older man raised his mug with a smile.  


Fenris returned the gesture, then looked out over the fields once more. “I wish that he had not done what he did,” he said after a brief silence. “I wish that he’d trusted Hawke, if no one else, enough to say what he was planning. If anyone could have found another way, it is Hawke.”  


“Perhaps he did not want another way, Fenris,” Jacob said sadly. “Tell me, years ago, when you first came to Kirkwall, if there had been an opportunity to critically strike out at mages, would you have turned it down?”  


Fenris bit back the retort on the tip of his tongue, the rejection of the idea that he was anything like Anders.  


But wasn’t he?  


Jacob’s words rang true, and he knew it.  


“No,” he said finally. “I would have wanted the decisive move. The one most likely to give me an advantage.”  


“No matter what else one might say about Anders’ choices, you cannot deny that he has removed the possibility of a compromise from the table.”  


“He said as much,” Fenris said. “In his last moments.” He glanced towards Kirkwall, fancying that he could still see the smoke rising. “He got his wish.”  


“Indeed,” Jacob said. “Well, my friend, I should go and get some work done.”  


“I shall come in with you,” Fenris said. “Sebastian mentioned that he wanted to talk. He should be done with his morning prayers by now.”  


Together they walked down from the battlements and into the Great Hall, where Sebastian was sitting and chatting with Aveline. The two of them glanced up at Fenris, smiling, and Aveline waved him over.  


“I shall take my leave,” Jacob said, raising his hand in greeting to the other two. “Thank you for indulging me this morning, Fenris.”  


“It was my pleasure,” Fenris said, nodding to the older man.  


Jacob smiled and turned up the staircase that led to his library, leaving Fenris to go and sit with his friends.  


“Good morning, Fenris,” Aveline said, sliding the plate holding Mrs. Rush breakfast pasties towards him. It was a good thing that he was accustomed to exercising regularly, or Mrs. Rush’ most excellent cooking would have had him as round as a wheel of cheese.  


“Good morning, Aveline, Sebastian,” Fenris said, helping himself.  


“How is she?” Aveline aske. “She and Orla were out before I arrived this morning.”  


“Exhausted,” Fenris said. “Worried. Filled with guilt.” He gave Sebastian a look. “And I’ll thank you not to harass her about it, Sebastian. She had no idea what Anders was planning. He told her that they were making a potion to separate him from Justice.”  


Sebastian’s striking eyes narrowed. “But what about asking her to distract the Revered Mother?”  


Fenris shrugged, though he admitted he had wondered the same. “Knowing Hawke, she thought he was leaving copies of his manifesto for the Chantry Sisters to find. He has been trying to disseminate it for some time.”  


Sebastian took a deep breath and nodded. “I cannot claim to have forgiven her for her part in it entirely,” he admitted. “Anders destroyed my home and many people I love. And for what? Kirkwall is now at war with itself. Mages are seen as the culprits. Things are only going to get worse.” His jaw tightened as he looked down at his plate. “And Anders gets to escape seeing the pain he has wrought.”  


“You wanted him dead,” Aveline said.  


“I still think he deserved to die,” Sebastian said. “But I was...hasty. He should have had to atone for what he did.”  


“It’s a little late for that,” Fenris said, forcing down the anger that surged up in his chest. If only Sebastian had had this clarity three weeks ago, perhaps Hawke wouldn’t be walking around in a cloud of guilt. “What will you do now?” he said instead.  


“I am returning to Starkhaven,” Sebastian said, giving a little nod. “I have spent too long running from my duties. We are entering into an age of war and Starkhaven deserves someone who cares for her people.”  


_Like the crown prince who has spent close to a decade away due to his crisis of faith?_ Fenris thought skeptically.  


“And I thought that I might ask you and Hawke for your help,” Sebastian continued.  


Fenris lowered his pasty to the table, raising an eyebrow at Sebastian. “Our help,” he said. “Retaking Starkhaven.”  


Sebastian shrugged a shoulder. “It would get Hawke out of Kirkwall. Meredith’s remaining Templars would have no power over her there. And it would give her something to do.”  


“It’s a good idea,” Aveline said. “I don’t know how long the Guard can keep the Templars at bay, and we’ll lose any ability to do so if the Divine calls for an Exalted March.”  


“That is what Hawke fears,” Fenris admitted. “After meeting Sister Nightingale. It is a large part of why she left the city.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair and pushing it back from his forehead.  


“So you think she might be amenable to the idea?” Sebastian said, sounding hopeful.  


Fenris shrugged. “It is as good an idea as any we have had,” he admitted. “And I think a purpose might help. She has been very...lost these past few weeks.” Inwardly he was already turning the idea over and over in his head, examining it. It would present a neat little solution to the things that Hawke was so worried about. It would put distance between her and Kirkwall, as well as their friends. Starkhaven did not answer to Kirkwall’s power structure, and if all else failed, it was reputedly a very secure city.  


Furthermore, it was a very large city, a place where he and Hawke could possibly fade into the general populace...if they were smart.  


“Hawke is out riding with Orla,” Fenris said. “But when she returns, I think it cannot hurt to bring her your idea.”  


Sebastian grinned at him, the expression transforming his face from composed Chantry brother to charming young prince in an instant. “Is shall do as you say,” Sebastian said. “Thank you, Fenris.”  


Fenris nodded and resumed eating. _Maybe this is what we needed,_ he thought. 

****

Hawke leaned against the hayloft wall, absently dragging the piece of twine for the adolescent cats as Mittens watched contentedly from atop a hay bale. "He loved you all," she told the cats, feeling the guilt and regret writhing in her stomach. She hadn't had an appetite in what felt like ages, but she rather doubted that anything she could eat would fill the empty place inside of her. "I'm sorry that he didn't get to meet your little ones," she said to Mittens, who watched her calmly through her orange eyes. "He was so happy you found somewhere safe to be." 

She leaned back, resisting the urge to close her eyes and trying to find some portion of the peace she'd felt in the saddle. It had been good to ride with Orla. The cold air had been bracing and galloping through the fields it almost felt as though it was raking through her, dragging out the detritus of guilt and sorrow.  


But now that she was still once more...it had returned.  


She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and then resumed staring ahead at nothing. If she closed her eyes she would see the explosion, or Ander’s crumpled body, or the thing that Orsino had become.  


Fuck, how had it all gone so wrong?  


“Saoirse?” Jacob’s voice called out softly from down in the stables.  


She didn’t answer. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone.  


She heard his footsteps, and then the creaking of the hayloft ladder. Jacob’s head poked up into the hayloft after a moment and his kind eyes met hers. “I thought I might find you here,” he said, taking the remaining steps and coming towards her. Fondly he picked up Mittens and sat on her hay bale, letting the cat drape herself across his lap instead.  


“Here I am,” Hawke said, smiling absently as one of the cats abandoned the twine and instead slunk over and headbutted her on the chin.  


“How are you?” Jacob asked.  


Hawke shook her head, unable to meet his eyes. What was there to say? All the work, blood, and tears that she had put into Kirkwall and for what? Her home had been taken just as easily as her last one and the worst part of it, she was at least in part responsible this time. “Not great,” she admitted.  


“I am sorry about Anders,” Jacob said. “That can’t have been an easy decision.”  


_It was, though, wasn’t it?_ Said the part of her that ached to give herself over to Rage.  


“I wish that it hadn’t gone that way,” Hawke said aloud, trying to force that part of her down. “I wish that I’d been less self-absorbed and realized what he was doing, instead of going along with it for my own stupid, selfish reasons.”  


Jacob’s eyebrow went up and Saoirse sighed. “I was worried that I was an abomination,” she said without preamble. “Because of dreams that I had been having. When Anders said that he thought he found a cure...I was all too eager to jump on it.” She shook her head, feeling the burning in her throat as the tears threatened. “And then I let him manipulate me into distracting the Grand Cleric so he could plant his, his bomb.”  


“Saoirse-”  


“He played on my friendship, Jacob!” Hawke said so loudly she startled the cats. “On my trust in him! He-he made me feel like if I didn’t help him, I was somehow betraying him!” She dropped her eyes, staring down into her hands and seeing his blood on him. “And I was so weak I let him.”  


“I don’t think you’re weak, Saoirse,” Jacob said. “I think your love for those close to you is one of your greatest strengths.”  


“It got the Chantry blown up,” Hawke said bitterly. “It started a war that more than likely is going to end in people like me being stripped of everything that makes them _them_.” She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. “Mass tranquility is all I see coming out of this.”  


They were both quiet for a few moments before Jacob slid down from the hay bale to sit at her side.  


“It wasn’t your fault, Saoirse,” Jacob said quietly.  


“It doesn’t feel that way,” Hawke said, burying her face in her hands.  


“It is all to easy to blame yourself for a tragedy,” Jacob said. “Because then it feels like if you are just vigilant enough, or brave enough, or whatever kind of enough in the future you’ll be able to prevent bad things from happening to you and the people you love. It’s harder to acknowledge that there are things outside of your control.”  


“But I could have-”  


“Do you really think that if you had not helped Anders find his ‘cure’ that he would not have done so?” Jacob asked.  


Hawke hesitated, then shook her head.  


“And do you think that he wouldn’t have found some other way to smuggle his bomb into the Chantry? That was his endgame, Saoirse. Fenris told me he even said he hoped to remove the chance for compromise.” He looked away, his expression turning sad. “Men who have entered that way of thinking...they cannot be dissuaded, Saoirse. I have seen it all too often. Hell, I have _been_ that man. What other kind of person goes down into the Deep Roads purely for vengeance?” He swallowed hard. “Several men who trusted me enough to accompany me on that mission died, for my hubris and rage. And even in my brief association with Anders it was clear to me that he viewed the Templars as every bit as monstrous as Darkspawn.”  


“He wasn’t entirely wrong,” Hawke said, thinking of Meredith as she’d been at the end with a shudder. “But we can be monsters too,” she said. The image of the Chantry exploding was there again, along with the smell of sulfur and the choking ash. And Maker, the sound. And there was her own hand, wet with Anders’ blood, and Orsino as he was in the end.  


“You are not a monster, Saoirse,” Jacob said firmly.  


“That’s not how it feels,” she admitted.  


“I know,” Jacob said.  


“I can’t stay here long,” Hawke said, wishing with all her heart that it wasn’t true. She loved the Castle and its inhabitants. But her association with the Count Durand was well-known in Kirkwall. Once things had settled, this would be the first place that they looked.  


“You can stay as long as you want,” Jacob said immediately and Hawke shot him a smile that wobbled.  


“No,” she said, and the words tasted like ashes. “I can’t, Jacob. It’s not safe.” She smiled at him, thinking of her conversation with Orla earlier. “You have too much to protect here.”  


Jacob flushed and gave her one of his boyish smiles. “I see Orla has told you our news.”  


“I’m thrilled for you, Jacob,” Hawke said, reaching out and taking his hand.  


“You don’t think I’m too old to be a father?”  


She shook her head, allowing herself a brief flare of joy. Jacob and Orla were good people who deserved every happiness. Her presence would at the very least cast a shadow over it, if it didn’t taint it as she did everything else.  


“I’m afraid we did things a bit out of order,” Jacob said wryly. “I had hoped to marry her first.” 

“I’m sure the baby won’t mind,” Hawke said with a sad smile.  


Jacob chuckled, then rose with a wince. “Come on, Saoirse,” he said. “You need to eat something. Mrs. Rush made pasties.”  


Hawke let him hoist her to her feet and followed him out of the quiet of the hayloft. She was going to be very sorry to leave this place behind. 

****

Fenris gave Hawke’s hand a squeeze as the two of them stood on the stairs of the Castle, looking in at their friends. They had known that this day was rapidly approaching, but now that it was here Fenris felt a surprising weight of sorrow.  


Mrs. Rush stepped forward with August and Mazin, holding a basket. “I’ve tried to make sure that you can get at least as far as Wildervale,” she said, her kind eyes worried. “You shouldn’t want for much before then.”  


“You didn’t have to-”  


“I did,” Mrs. Rush said. “And you know why, Saoirse, so I won’t have you arguing.”  


“We made the jerky ourselves,” August said. “Please be well, Champion, you will be missed.”  


“Thank you,” Hawke said. “All of you. This is very kind.”  


“It was our pleasure,” Mazin said, sweeping Hawke into a tight hug. “We’ll look forward to news of your travels, Champion.”  


Hawke nodded, wiping at her eyes as Orana stepped forward with Neriel.  


“Mistress,” Orana said and then both women burst into tears and hugged each other tightly. “My whole life changed because of you,” Orana said. “I will never forget your kindness, my dear lady.”  


“Thank you for-for everything,” Hawke whispered. “I wish you and Neriel every happiness, Orana, I hope that you know that.”  


“I do, my lady, and I hope you know I wish the same for you.” Orana stepped back, sniffling, and glanced over her shoulder. Neriel stepped forward holding two bolts of cloth. “These are for you two,” Orana said, taking them from her partner and holding one out to Hawke and one, to his surprise, to Fenris.  


Hawke accepted hers with shaking hands and unfolded it, letting out a soft cry of pleasure. The dark gray wool was almost black, and was embroidered with a pattern of a wolf chasing a hawk through an ancient forest in shimmery silver thread.  


“Neriel sourced the wool,” Orana said with a sad smile. “From the Anderfels. It’s supposed to be lightweight and resistant to water and so very warm…” she trailed off and the two women embraced again.  


“They are beautiful, Orana,” Hawke said. “Thank you. We will treasure them.”  


“Orana,” Fenris said through the surprising lump in his throat. “This is a kingly gift. It will be an honor to wear it.” He let out a surprised chuff as Orana swept him up into a hug every bit as fierce as the one she’d given Hawke.  


“Thank you for your kindness, Master Fenris,” she said. “I will miss you.”  


“I’ll miss you too,” he said, and found that it was very true.  


Orana and Neriel stepped back, and Jacob strode forward with Orla at his side, his kind eyes sad. “We are going to miss you, Saoirse,” he said. “I know I speak for all of us. I can only promise that you will always have a home here, should you ever return, and that your friends can always seek shelter here or aboard the Arrow.”  


“Be well, Saoirse,” Orla said with a smile. “And remember to keep your heels down.”  


Hawke let out a wet little chuckle and embraced them both, thanking them for their kindness and hospitality. Fenris had to admit that it was comforting to know that those they were leaving behind had somewhere safe to turn if things got worse.  


When they got worse.  


“Well this is awful,” Isabela said, dabbing at her eyes. “I hate goodbyes.”  


“It’s not really goodbye, is it?” Merrill asked, her eyes shining as tears trickled openly down her cheeks.  


“No,” Hawke said hoarsely. But Fenris knew that she had her doubts. “We’ll see each other again, Merrill.”  


“Do you promise?” Merrill asked, stepping forward and pulling Hawke into a tight hug.  


Hawke nodded and Merrill pulled back, kissing her on the cheeks before turning and launching herself at Fenris. He caught her with a surprised grunt, returning the tight hug that she gave him. “Try not to start any fights,” Merrill said, looking up into his eyes. “And take care of Hawke, and yourself.”  


“I will,” Fenris said, surprised at the tightness in his throat.  


“Don’t be stupid,” Isabela said, giving Hawke a hug and wet kiss on the cheek. “Don’t do anything I would do.”  


“Don’t you mean ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’?” Hawke teased through her tears.  


Isabela chuckled and shook her head, releasing Hawke and pulling Fenris in for a hug that smelled of perfume and beer.  


“We both know following your instincts is the better call,” Isabela said. “Just...try not to die, Hawke, all right? Merrill can’t drink like you can.”  


“I don’t like how the room spins,” Merrill said, earning chuckles from Hawke and Isabela and a smile from Fenris.  


“I will be in touch, Hawke,” Aveline said softly, and Fenris saw Hawke’s breath catch as she reached out and clasped Aveline’s hand. “I’m sorry I can’t go with you.”  


“You weren’t invited to this party, Ave,” Hawke teased, glancing back at where Sebastian was already astride his horse. Her expression grew heartbreakingly serious. “You have duties here, a life here. I wouldn’t ask you to give them up.”  


“I would,” Aveline said, her green eyes searching Hawke’s.  


Hawke snorted and pulled the Guard Captain in for a hug. “You’re a terrible liar, Aveline. You can no more abandon your duties than Fenris can abandon brooding.”  


Fenris rolled his eyes and caught the sad smile Aveline shot him over Hawke’s shoulder. She gave Fenris a bone-crushing hug. “You’ll look after her?” she said. “Keep her out of trouble?”  


“I’m right here,” Hawke said.  


“Insofar as I am able,” Fenris said wryly. “Though I think we both know that it is a lost cause.” He grew serious and clasped Aveline’s hand when she pulled back. “I will do all I can,” he promised. “Please be safe, Aveline.”  


Aveline nodded and took a few steps back.  


Which left only Varric.  


The dwarf stepped forward, his jaw set as he looked back and forth between Hawke and Fenris. Seeing Hawke’s shoulders begin to shake, Fenris stepped forward and embraced the dwarf, hoping to give her a moment to collect herself. Varric’s arms were tight around him as the dwarf took in a breath that shook. “You be safe, elf,” he said gruffly. “Do you hear me?”  


“Yes, Varric,” Fenris replied, resting his chin on Varric’s head. “I will miss you. I promise to write.”  


“One of you has to,” Varric rumbled. He pulled back and looked up at Fenris. “Atrast tunsha, Salroka,” he said, clapping Fenris on the shoulder so hard that he stumbled. “Take care of her,” Varric said softly. “Please.”  


“I will,” Fenris promised. “I will miss you, Varric,” he said and felt the warmth of tears on his cheeks.  


“You too, Broody,” Varric said with a sad smile. He swallowed hard and turned to Hawke, who was openly sobbing. “Come here, Sweetheart,” he said raggedly.  


Hawke lurched forward into his arms, sobbing, and Varric’s cheeks were wet as he pulled her in for a tight hug. “Varric!”  


“I’ve got you,” Varric said, his voice hoarse.  


“What am I going to do without you?” Hawke whispered. “I’m going to miss you so much.”  


“I’m going to miss you too, Hawke,” Varric said. “But this isn’t goodbye, Sweetheart. It’s just see you later. We are going to see each other again. I promise.”  


“I love you,” Hawke said. “You know that, right?”  


“I do,” Varric said, his eyes clenched tightly shut. “I love you too.”  


Hawke pulled back abruptly and Fenris hated the lost look that was on her face. “I’m going to miss all of you,” she gritted out through intense, wracking sobs. “So much. Fuck!” She took another step back. “I-I’m going to go,” she said. “Before I can’t. I love you all so much, thank you for being my friends. Please take care of yourselves and each other.” She took a shuddering breath and squared her shoulders, lifting her chin. “How does the old harvest song go?” she murmured, before looking up at them again through eyes that were puffy and red-rimmed. “We shall merry meet again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! We are heading to Starkhaven after this I think, but I need to do a little more outlining to be sure. Work has been bananas (we are down a quarter of our staff after several people quit) and it's only going to get crazier following Thanksgiving. However, I am hoping to get the next chapter up somewhere around 12/7. Thank you all for your patience and I hope that you are still enjoying this story. As always, if you have any thoughts, please feel free to share!


	42. Pausing for Now

Hi there, everyone. I said that I would update today and even though I don't have a chapter to share, I did want to be transparent about where I am at with The Wolf You Feed. I started this fic a year ago (almost exactly) and it has been a heck of a ride writing it. It has been wonderful to share with you all and it has been really special to receive your comments. The reason I had planned to post a new chapter today was that I was supposed to have last week off, which I had hoped would give me time and energy to get the next chapter done. However, due to COVID and staffing circumstances at work, I had to work. I am feeling pretty bummed and burnt out and between that and other projects I have going, I think I am going to have to shelve TWYF for now. I think the story is at least in a good place to take a pause, and I do hope that the time I have off over the holidays will help me recover some of my energy. If it ends up being that I am permanently shelving TWYF, I will update again to let you all know. Like I said, I just wanted to be honest about where things are, rather than a) go along pretending I'm not struggling b) put something out that I am not proud of. I hope that this rambling message makes sense. Thank you all for reading and for your patience. 

Please be safe and well and if I don't post before then, have a happy and safe holiday season.

<3   
~SLN


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